


(you're) all that i hoped to find

by amaanogawa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Daichi doesn't watch tv or keep up with celebrities AU, Everyone wants mom and dad to be happy AU, M/M, Suga is famous AU, fluff and angst and everything in between
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaanogawa/pseuds/amaanogawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sugawara Koushi often lives his life feeling like he isn’t an actual person at all, but some idea of a person that other people made up; a character profile written out on a crisp sheet of lined paper with a ballpoint pen, a perfect Koushi-shaped mould that he warps himself to fit into."</p><p>In which Suga is a celebrity and Daichi doesn't watch TV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. cause i'm a little unsteady

Sugawara Koushi often lives his life feeling like he isn’t an actual person at all, but some idea of a person that other people made up; a character profile written out on a crisp sheet of lined paper with a ballpoint pen, a perfect Koushi-shaped mould that he warps himself to fit into. Perfect Koushi, who smiles and laughs and has perfect hair all the time, perfect Koushi with perfect skin and perfect teeth and a perfect life. He goes where he needs to go, talks to the people he needs to talk to, plays the parts he needs to play. He wakes up at 5 every morning, does his scheduled work out, showers, completes his skin routine, completes his hair routine, eats a perfectly balanced breakfast that has been planned out between a nutritionist and two personal trainers, gets his schedule from his body guards and is out of the door before 8.  
  
He does what he needs to do.  
  
He goes where he needs to go.  
  
But there is nothing that he _wants_ to do. There is nowhere he _wants_ to go. He doesn’t know who he is beyond the mask that he dons every single morning. A Koushi-faced costume that pinches and squeezes him all over, rubs blisters into his skin and doesn’t fit quite right no matter how much he tries to force it to. Sometimes it all gets a little overwhelming and he feels _lost_. But crying alone on his bedroom floor is surely not something that perfect, angelic, cheerful Koushi would do, and so it doesn’t happen.  
  
At least, not that anyone else knows of.  
  
Truth be told, he spends more nights like that than he’d like to admit.  
  
On one of his rare days off, the feelings are so strong that Koushi can’t breathe. He feels a gnarled hand wrap itself around his throat and threaten to drag him under, the taste of suffocation thick on his tongue. _Out, out, he needs to get out_. He grabs a hat and a pair of large sunglasses without another thought, throwing on his cliché disguise. He scrawls a hasty and only slightly legible note (perfect Koushi also has perfect handwriting, every kanji slightly rounded for a cute effect. This Koushi does not care.), waits for his body guards to start their routine sweep of the building’s perimeters before sneaking out the door. He takes the descending stairs two at a time, all 32 floors of it. Down, down, down, and by the time he pushes on the outer doors, he is a sweaty, panting mess. But the flood of warm, spring air that blows into his face, combs through his hair as he opens the door to the outside is enough to bring tears to his eyes.  
  
He takes a bus to a random Starbucks and orders a peach green tea lemonade. Stutters and yells “Kou- Kou- Kou…….. Koutarou!” When the barista asks for his name, drawing a series of strange looks. He feels so un-Koushi like, and yet so much more at home than he has in ages. Koushi goes grocery shopping. He doesn’t buy anything, but walks up and down the aisles, soaking in the normality of it all. No paparazzi. No cameras. No microphones stuck in his face. No screaming fans (though he appreciates and adores them, most days). He almost forgets. Almost.  
  
Except at that moment his sunglasses slip down his nose and he hears a girl to his left gasp, grabbing her friend’s arm and shaking it urgently.  
  
“I think that’s Sugawara Koushi over there. In the hat and sunglasses!”  
  
“Don’t be silly, why would Sugawara Koushi be in a random J-mart on this side of town?”  
  
“I’m serious! It’s definitely him. Let’s go talk to him!”  
  
Both girls are leering at him now, and he feels sweat beading on the back of his neck. He isn’t ready for his tiny piece of normalcy to end after he had only just barely had a taste of it. Calmly, Koushi walks out of the store. As soon as he’s out, he starts to run, zigzagging into small residential roads and turning random corners in hopes that the girls aren’t hot on his trail. He chases freedom with every step, chases normalcy and excitement and being more than ink on paper. Koushi’s feet carry him further and further from prying eyes and scandalous whispers, carry him far, far away from the world where he can never escape the people around him and yet has never felt more alone in his entire life.  
  
That is, until he slams face first into some poor sucker innocently rounding the corner.  
  
His beverage goes everywhere. It soaks Koushi, splashes into his face and over his clothes, soaks the man he ran into even worse. There is a brief moment’s silence between the two of them.  
  
“Jesus.” The man finally whispers. “What _is_ this stuff?”  
  
“…peach green tea lemonade.” Koushi responds numbly, brain still processing what had just happened.  
  
“I have it in my eyes. I have lemonade in my eyes.” The man is pawing at his eyes then, voice wavering just the tiniest bit and it’s enough for Koushi to snap out of his shock.  
  
“Holy shit! I’m so sorry, I’m so so so sorry,” he says frantically, digging a handkerchief out of his pocket and trying to dab at the man’s face. The man accepts his handkerchief and continues to wipe at his eyes. “Are you okay?!”  
  
“I- I think so?” The man rasps softly. “It burns like hell. I didn’t know peach green tea lemonade could be this deadly.”  
  
Koushi looks around in desperation, hoping to spy some small store that might have a washroom for the man to use, but only residential houses and buildings surrounded them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know this area but there doesn’t seem to be anywhere for you to wash the lemonade out.” Koushi wrings his hands anxiously, thoughts barreling forward at a thousand miles per second. “I don’t know what to do.”  
  
The man hesitates for a second as if thinking, Koushi’s handkerchief still pressed to his eyes. “Okay, listen. I know this is going to sound really sketchy but- my apartment is literally around the corner and I can’t open my eyes. I promise I’m not a serial killer, please help me home?”  
  
Instantly, Koushi clamps his hand onto the man’s forearm. “Tell me where to go.” He says, lifting his chin up in determination.  
  
\---  
  
Not even 10 minutes later, Koushi stands in front of a door emblazoned with the numbers 407 alongside the stranger he blinded with lemonade. The stranger fumbles through his pockets before drawing out a keychain and handing it to Koushi.  
  
“It’s the square-ish silver one.” He says weakly, scrunching his eyes together.  
  
Koushi nods (not that the man can see it, oops) and unlocks the door, leading the man inside. The inside of his apartment is furnished simply, neutral taupe walls and white curtains. Some magazines with what looks like volleyball on the covers are scattered on top of a coffee table, placed in front of a soft-looking beige couch and a wide-screen TV.  
  
“I’m really sorry.” The man says suddenly, making Koushi jump. “The washroom is down the hallway to the left. Can you just lead me to the doorway, please?”  
  
Koushi almost laughs at how polite the man is being, as if it’s not entirely Koushi’s damn fault that the he’s been left half-blinded and in terrible stinging pain. They both toe off their shoes before Koushi takes the man’s forearm again, leading him past the entrance. What he doesn’t notice is that there’s a small ledge from where the entryway turns into the living room- with a shout the man trips over the ledge and stumbles. Koushi shrieks in surprise, still gripping onto the man’s arm and both of them are sent toppling forward onto the floor.  
  
There is another moment of silence as the two of them lay on the floor. A moment of silence that is thick with disbelief and thoughts of _as if that just happened after this crappy situation we’re already in holy shit wow this is unbelievable._  
  
And that’s when the man starts laughing. A deep, rumbling laughter, loud and exasperated and Koushi can’t help but burst into laughter too. Because what a day. What a fucking day. Koushi has no idea how a day that started out with overwhelming misery has somehow ended up with him sprawled out across a stranger’s apartment floor, alongside a man he had inadvertently blinded with overpriced lemonade. He is bruised and soaked and sticky with peach flavoured syrup and laughing himself into hysterics, and in that moment, Koushi can’t remember ever feeling more _human_. Without a word, the man reaches his hand out, and Koushi clambers to his feet before pulling the man to his, finally leading him to the washroom.  
  
\---  
  
“So, that was quite an adventure.” The man says, freshly changed and wiping his face on a towel. It’s only then that Koushi realizes that he doesn’t have his sunglasses anymore, realizes that they must have fallen off in the collision and that he is a famous actor-model standing disguiseless without his body guards or anyone knowing where he is, in a stranger’s apartment. But it’s too late to regret any of this, because the man is opening his eyes for the first time since Koushi ran into him and maybe Koushi is really looking at _him_ for the first time too, not having had the time or the spare thought during the preceding events.  
  
And wow.  
  
Because Koushi doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, but the guy he half-blinded is really attractive. In a way that is different from himself, that is- because the man standing in front of him is thick where Koushi is thin, sturdy where Koushi is delicate and chiseled where Koushi is all fine lines. Despite the whites of his eyes being coloured a painful looking pink-red, the honey brown of his eyes flood Koushi with a distinct feeling of warmth.  
  
“Well, thanks. For helping me out.” The man continues. He reaches out a hand. “My name is Sawamura Daichi.” Dazed, Koushi reaches out his own hand and watches in slight amazement as it’s wrapped in a firm grip. Seconds pass before he registers the confused expression on Sawamura Daichi’s face.  
  
_Oh,_ Koushi realizes, _he’s waiting for me to introduce myself._  
  
Oh, Koushi realizes, _he doesn’t know who I am._  
  
Wait, Koushi realizes. _He doesn’t know who I am?_  
  
“Sugawara.” Koushi squeaks, cursing the way his voice comes out. “Koushi. I’m very, very sorry for ruining your clothes and blinding you with my lemonade, Sawamura-san.”  
  
Sawamura Daichi laughs, pumping Koushi’s hand up and down before reaching over with his free hand and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “After everything we’ve been through just now, you can call me Daichi.”  
  
“D-Daichi.” Koushi echoes, feeling airy. “Uhm. Everyone calls me Koushi, so…”  
  
Daichi hums thoughtfully for a few seconds. “Then I won’t.”  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
“I don’t want to call you what everyone else calls you.” Daichi grins. “How about ‘Suga’, then? Short and simple.”  
  
“You’re being awfully amicable towards someone who blinded you 20 minutes ago.” Suga snarks, reaching up to rub at the nape of his neck sheepishly. “Again, I’m sorry. I still feel really bad.”  
  
“It’s all forgotten.” Daichi says lightly, turning and walking into the kitchenette area of his apartment. “Would you like something to drink?”  
  
“Ah, no, I should actually get going.” Suga smiles. His rebellious adventure has gone on for long enough, he thinks. “Thank you for the offer, though.”  
  
“Oh, actually, do you want some clothes to change into? That looks really uncomfortable.”  
  
Suga shifts in his sticky shirt, considering. ”Actually, a shirt would be really nice. Thank you, Daichi.”  
  
Daichi walks across the hall and opens the door to a bedroom, disappearing inside for a few moments before stepping back out, t-shirt in hand. “Here. Sorry, it’s probably going to be a bit too big.”  
  
“No, that’s okay.” Suga says, thumbing the soft material. “Can I borrow your washroom to change?”  
  
Daichi’s smile is kind. “You know where it is.”  
  
\---

They exchange numbers so that Suga has a way to return the shirt afterwards. Daichi walks Suga down to the lobby of his apartment building, and Suga gets all the way down the street before giving in and peeking over his shoulder just as he turns the corner. When he does, Daichi is still there, hands in pockets with a fond smile on his face.  
  
Suga calls his body guards and they’re there within 15 minutes. They fuss over him and scold him for sneaking out, tell him to be reasonable because what if something happened and they aren’t there to protect him? Koushi nods and hums and apologizes all the while, still dizzy thinking about the way _Suga_ sounded on Daichi's lips.  
  
  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(23:21) _How are your eyes feeling?_  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
_(23:23) fine, lol. thanks for checking up._  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
_(23:24) That's good._  
_(23:24) I still feel really bad...I blinded you and ruined your clothes and then let you fall when I was supposed to be helping you._  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
_(23:25) well, your lemonade that probably cost $20 went to waste because of me so we can call it even?_  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
_(23:27) It did NOT cost $20._  
_(23:27) Let me treat you to some takeout when I return your shirt?_  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
_(23:29) you won't catch me declining free food._  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
_(00:00) Okay._  
_(00:00) Let me know a good time._  
_(00:00) Sorry. Again._  
_(00:00) For everything._  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
_(00:01) goodnight, suga._  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
_(00:01) Goodnight Daichi._  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love peach green tea lemonades. Also why has blind/half-blinded Daichi become a trend in my recent works?
> 
> hmu on my [tumblr](http://www.amaanogawa.tumblr.com), yo.


	2. keep breathing just like they taught you

“You’ve been awfully cheery lately.”  
  
Daichi looks up from his phone with a disinterested glance. “What makes you say that?”  
  
“You’re not as scary as you usually are. You’re staring at your phone all the time. You’re blushing like a pure maiden with hearts in your eyes.”  
  
A familiar toothy grin appears that Daichi wants to wipe off with a smack more often than not, but instead he huffs in annoyance and places his phone face down on the table, as if to prove a point. If he were telling the truth, Daichi would admit that he had, in fact, been in high spirits lately. He would admit that the thought of seeing a certain person again is certainly enough motivation to finish his day’s work with a bounce in his step. He would also admit that this specific person might possibly be the prettiest person he’s ever laid eyes on, all soft and radiant with a smile that looks like it could make flowers grow. But Daichi would never admit any of those things, and he would especially not admit them to the very smug man sitting in front of him. So instead Daichi raises a brow and feigns ignorance. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kuroo.”  
  
“My own best friend gets himself a boyfriend and I’m not informed? I’m hurt.” Kuroo raises his hand to his chest in mock disbelief, eyes widening comically. “C’mon, spill the deets to your old pal, Sawamura-kun.”  
  
Suga’s angelic smile flashes through his mind, and a red tinge begins to creep up Daichi’s neck at the thought of Suga as his _boyfriend_. “There are no ‘deets’ to spill. I’m not dating anyone.” He says, cringing at the way his voice squeaks towards the end.  
  
“So are you telling me that Sawamura Daichi, possibly the least exciting man to walk the earth, has found a fuck buddy?”  
  
“What? No!” Daichi sputters, choking on a swig of beer- thoughts of _dating_ Suga alone induced a blush, but the thought of _fucking_ Suga might just kill him on the spot. He chokes and coughs and promptly turns purple in the face, wondering how he has the unfortunate luck of being blinded and also being suffocated all in the same week. Kuroo lets out a cackle, thumping him on the back in a useless attempt to help.  
  
“Well whoever this is, he’s sure got you acting like a little virgin.” The toothy grin is back and this time Daichi _does_ take a halfhearted swing at it, still coughing behind his hand. Kuroo laughs and dodges easily, slinging his arm around Daichi. “Aw, I’m just kidding, Sawamura-kun. No need to get grumpy with me.”  
  
“Would you cut it out with the ‘Sawamura-kun’? It’s creepy.”  
  
“But you got mad at ‘Captain Thighchi’.”  
  
Daichi digs his fingers into his scalp and lets out a long sigh.  
  
\---  
  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
  
(12:34) does this saturday work for you?  
  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
  
(2:59) Yes! I’ll swing by around evening.  
  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
  
(3:08) can’t wait.  
  
\---  
  
“Hey Asahi, would you be able to order some takeout for me, to be picked up before 5?” Suga asks, pulling his sweater over his head. “I’m going to visit a, uhm. A friend. At 5. And I want to bring takeout. That Thai place I like, on 7 th street.”  
  
Asahi’s brows shoot up, so surprised that he doesn’t speak for a few seconds. He looks down at the binder in front of him. “Uh, today at 5? Koushi, you have a photoshoot at that time.”  
  
“Isn’t the photoshoot at 9 in the morning?”  
  
“Well, yes, but any number of things could go wrong,” Asahi says quickly, counting on his fingers as if mentally listing the plethora of horrible accidents that might happen. “I mean, so many things…there’s no guarantee you’ll be done by 5, and I’d hate to make your friend wait so-”  
  
“Asahi. Stop it with the negative beard.”  
  
“O-okay.”  
  
“Order the takeout, please.”  
  
Asahi sighs, scribbling a note in his binder before stepping out of Koushi’s room. Koushi first met Asahi way back in high school when they played on the same volleyball team, becoming fast friends as the setter and the ace. They went to the same university and when Koushi first began trying his luck at modelling, Asahi somehow fell into place as Koushi’s agent. When Koushi’s career really took off a few years later, a number of big-name agents came to him and offered their services. They all suggested that his talent far surpassed Asahi’s capabilities, but Koushi had refused all of them immediately- he and Asahi were a team, end of discussion.

“Koushi, we should leave soon.”  
  
“Okaaay.” Koushi says in a sing-song voice. He grabs Daichi’s shirt and stuffs it into his bag just in case he doesn’t have time to come back to his apartment after the photoshoot before stepping out into the living room.  
  
“Good morning, Koushi-san!”  
  
Koushi smiles endearingly at the bob of wild, gelled hair, a streak of blond running through the front tuft. A second head (this one shaved) pops into the room with a similar greeting.  
  
“Good morning Nishinoya, Tanaka.”  
  
Nishinoya and Tanaka are his very hot-blooded, very passionate, and very energetic body guards; they had also been on the same volleyball team as him and Asahi as rowdy underclassmen. The pair had always had a strong protective instinct (though they made an annoyance of themselves more often than not) and when the need for bodyguards became apparent once Koushi’s popularity soared, he reached out to them personally. Nishinoya and Tanaka had both been jumping between different part-time jobs since graduating high school, and so when Koushi asked if they would consider becoming his bodyguards they leapt at the chance.  
  
_“Does that mean we get to wear cool sunglasses and have a kickass earpiece, with the coil behind our ear?!”_  
  
And, well, the rest was history.  
  
Koushi felt extremely fortunate to have his friends beside him. Even if one was a chronic pessimist with a heart made of glass, and the other two acted like overly excitable children most of the time, they were his supports. On days that felt just a little too long, just a little too crazy, just a little too hectic, Koushi would find himself struggling continue; it would be then that Asahi would shoot him a reassuring smile and call for the car, Nishinoya would bring him a cup of coffee made just the way he liked it, and Tanaka would wordlessly hand him two aspirin pills. Then, without fail, they would chide him about speaking up when he didn’t feel well and usher him home.  
  
Koushi was very lucky indeed. Or at least this is what he tries to remind himself as Nishinoya and Tanaka leer aggressively at an innocent by-stander down in the lobby, Asahi promptly turning blue in the face and pushing the two along, one hand on each back.  
  
\---  
  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
  
(15:39) hey, just wondering around what time you’d be here. let me know.  
(17:21) im getting hungry waiting for that takeout!  
(21:49) i guess you got busy? hope everything’s alright.  
  
\---  
  
Daichi awakens with a start, blearily looking around his room in confusion. The doorbell rings again and he checks his phone, furrowing his brow at the time. Who on earth would be ringing his doorbell at half past midnight? Probably Kuroo, drunk and wanting to hang out, Daichi thinks with an annoyed grimace. He swears under his breath and swings his feet over the edge of his bed, walks down the hallway to the entrance and yanks open the door, getting ready to give Kuroo a piece of his mind.  
  
Except he opens the door and it’s not Kuroo’s face he finds, but Suga’s, who dons a sheepish smile and holds up a bag of plastic styrofoam containers in an innocent gesture. Daichi is so taken aback he almost doesn’t register the large white bandage taped onto Suga’s forehead, just above his eye.  
  
“Suga? What happened to your head?” Daichi asks, taking the bag from Suga’s hand and pulling him through the door. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Ahh, uhm, yea. There was an accident at work.” Suga smiles, rubbing the nape of his neck. “There was a really nervous intern on his first day and a light fixture involved, and I just happened to be standing in a very unfortunate place.”  
  
Daichi furrows his brow in concern. Without thinking, he reaches out a hand and brushes away soft, silvery hair, fingertips lightly tracing the edges of the bandage. Suga flinches, just the tiniest bit, and Daichi pulls his hand back like he’s been burned, stunned by his own actions. “Sorry! I’m not sure why I did that!”  
  
But Suga only smiles, shakes his head, cheeks turning the slightest tinge of pink.  “No, that’s okay. Uhm, I’m really sorry for coming over so suddenly, at such a late time. But I felt really bad for bailing.”  
  
“It’s not your fault.” Daichi says, unable to stop looking at the bandage. “Come in, you should sit down. Are you feeling okay?”  
  
It’s only then that Suga realizes they’re still standing in the entryway. “Yea, I’m okay now. It’s just a cut and a bit of a bruise.”  
  
The two pad their way into the living room area and Suga sits down on the couch. Daichi places the takeout bag on the coffee table, goes into the kitchenette before returning with two pairs of chopsticks. Suga blinks. “Are you actually planning on eating the takeout right now?”  
  
“Well, yea.” Daichi says, settling down beside Suga and opening up a styrofoam container. “You went through the trouble to bring it, after all.”  
  
Suga can’t help but smile, picking up his own pair of chopsticks and helping himself to the contents of the other container.  
  
“So, you mentioned that you got hurt at work? What do you do?” Daichi asks between mouthfuls of Pad Thai, brown eyes peering over with curiosity.  
  
“Uh.” Suga freezes. He’s still not sure how it is that Daichi doesn’t know who he is when his face and name have been plastered across every form of mainstream media over the better part of the past 3 years, but he enjoys the way that Daichi treats him as a normal person. He enjoys being _Suga_ and not _Koushi_ , enjoys how easy it is to breathe when he’s wolfing down Thai take out at 1 in the morning. He doesn’t think that Daichi is the type of person to treat him differently after knowing that he’s famous, but Suga doesn’t feel ready to let go of this tiny piece of normalcy. “I’m. A model, actually.”  
  
Which is not really a lie. But it’s not the whole truth either, and Suga feels a pang of guilt spread throughout this chest.  
  
Daichi pauses mid-chew, eyes widening a fraction. “A model? That’s crazy!”  
  
“Y-Yea, crazy…” Suga echoes faintly, wondering what Daichi would think about him being an internationally famous actor alongside a model.  
  
“But, it _does_ suit you. I mean-” Daichi swallows nervously, looking away and chuckling. “I mean, not that I’m trying to say- I mean. Uh. Well, I just mean that your face, is uh. Nice. Looking. And models are, uh, usually nice looking.” He finishes rambling like a deer caught in headlights and buries his face, burning red at this point, into his hands, absolutely mortified at his lack of eloquence. “Wait, okay, can we forget everything that just happened?”  
  
Suga is laughing then, doubling over and clutching at his stomach. This is exactly what he’s not ready to let go of, this feeling of being human, being normal, just another person spending time with a cute guy he might have a huge crush on. Eating take out and laughing until his stomach hurts. He has felt more, laughed more, smiled more genuinely in the short amount of time that he’s spent in Daichi’s presence than he has in so long, and Koushi doesn’t know what else to feel other than gratitude.  
  
“Thanks, Daichi. Your face is quite nice looking too.”  
  
“I feel like you’re making fun of me.” Daichi mumbles, words muffled by his hands still covering his face.

“I might be.” Suga grins, a twinkle in his eye. “Just a little.”  
  
Suga learns a lot about Daichi as they talk. He’s an executive board member of a small business company involved in sports equipment. He, like Suga and his friends, played volleyball in high school. His team went to nationals, but didn’t win. He was the captain of the team. He moved from Miyagi to study in a university in Tokyo. He majored in business with a double minor in English and Japanese literature. His favourite food is shoyu ramen. He shrank one millimeter in his third year of high school and his height hasn’t changed since.  
  
It’s such a strange thing, how these piles and piles of tiny details fit together to form an entire person. Daichi suddenly isn’t just the guy Suga blinded with his lemonade anymore, but properly _Sawamura Daichi_. And Sawamura Daichi, Suga realizes, is a driven, kind, generous, caring, funny, adorable human being and Suga might be feeling just a little light headed in the midst of it all.  
  
All of a sudden, there’s a knock at the door and the both of them jump at the sound.  
  
“Who the hell?” Daichi says softly, obviously a bit unnerved. He checks the clock ticking on the wall behind them. “It’s like, 3am.”  
  
“It’s 3 in the morning? Seriously? Oh, shit.” Suga stands. “That’s probably my, uhm. My people.”  
  
“Your people?” Daichi’s blinking at him, confused. He gets up and walks past Suga to the door, opening it to reveal Nishinoya and Tanaka, both wearing their bodyguard sunglasses even though it’s pitch black out.  
  
“We are here for Koushi-san.” Nishinoya barks, arms crossed, feet planted shoulder width apart.  
  
Suga peeks over Daichi’s shoulder and groans, rolling his eyes. “Guys, it’s the middle of the night. Why are you wearing sunglasses.”  
  
“Because it’s cooler that way!” The pair shout in tandem, hands clutched behind their back.  
  
“Shhh! Don’t yell!” Suga whispers desperately, fumbling to get his shoes on. “Okay, okay, I’m coming right now. Can you guys go down to the car first, please?”  
  
In a smooth motion, both of them tip their sunglasses down with a flick of their fingers in order to peer over the edge, studying Daichi with narrowed eyes. After a few seconds of silence, (they totally practiced this, Suga realizes with a groan) they tip their sunglasses back up and turn, walking back down the hallway towards the elevators.  
  
“So those are your people, huh?” Daichi asks, cocking an eyebrow.  
  
“Yea…hate that I love them.” Suga laughs softly.  “Well. Sorry for coming over so late and keeping you up. And for missing our original time in the first place.”  
  
“You say sorry too much.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
A silence settles between them, thick and heavy with unspoken words. Finally, after what seems like forever, Daichi shuffles and lifts his arm towards Suga. For the briefest of moments Suga thinks he’s going to cup his cheek or something like that, but Daichi jerks his hand back, freezes, and finally rests it on Suga’s shoulder.  
  
“Goodnight, Suga.” He gives Suga’s shoulder a squeeze, an unfamiliar look in his eyes.  
  
“Oh. Uhm. Goodnight, Daichi.” Suga smiles.  
  
He leaves.  
  
\---  
  
Back in his apartment, Suga realizes that he forgot to return Daichi’s shirt.

It shouldn’t make him happy thinking that he still has a piece of Daichi with him. It shouldn’t make him happy that it still smells like Daichi’s apartment. It shouldn’t make him happy that it gives him an easy excuse to see Daichi again soon.  
  
But it does.  
  
Suga is very happy as he curls into himself under the covers, clutching the shirt against his chest like a lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on my [tumblr](http://www.amaanogawa.tumblr.com), yo.


	3. i've only felt religion when i've lied with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uploaded a chapter two days in a row and now I'm going out on a run, so I guess you can say I'm really in control of my life l o l. Just a heads up but this chapter is rather AsaNoya-centric. I planned out what I want to write a little more (cause I'm pretty much making it up as I go forgive me) so the tags have been updated accordingly. 
> 
> PS: I'm sorry I can't help but insert Kurodai into every fic for my own self indulgent pleasure.
> 
> hmu on my [tumblr](http://www.amaanogawa.tumblr.com), yo.

Daichi’s head is foggy. He’s been lying in bed ever since Suga left with his “people”, whatever that meant. It is currently 6am and he still hasn’t been able to fall asleep. All he could think about was Suga, about how Suga also played volley ball, though it was as a setter in contrast to Daichi’s position as a wing spiker. He thought about how his favourite food is super spicy mapo tofu, how his nickname used to be Mr.Refreshing, about the mole underneath his eye that Daichi had the strongest urge to press into. About how he worked as a model. A model. Daichi didn’t have a hard time believing it, but just because Suga is certainly pretty enough to be a model didn’t mean that Daichi was expecting him to actually _be_ a model. He wondered what Suga modeled for. Clothing brands? Fragrances? Food products? Daichi swallows thickly, his throat suddenly feeling dry. _Dirty magazines?_  
  
Suga’s angelic smile flashes through his mind and he shakes his head, wiping any filthy thoughts out of his mind.  
  
Jesus, he needs to go take a cold shower before he does something that he would end up regretting. Daichi lets out a groan and sits up, heading for the washroom.  
  
\---  
  
“Bro.” Kuroo raises an eyebrow at him. “What the fuck.”  
  
All Daichi can do is shrug his shoulders with an easy grin, holding up a peace offering. “I have McDonald’s breakfast. And coffee?” He says, as if that’s supposed to diffuse the situation at hand. He watches as Kuroo’s gaze slides from Daichi’s face, to the coffee cups, to the greasy paper bag, before rolling his eyes with a sigh and turning around, heading back into his apartment without another word. Daichi follows close behind.  
  
“And? What’s the crisis?” Kuroo yawns, tears beading at the corner of his eyes. He drapes himself across his three-seater couch, lithe body stretched out like a cat in the sunlight. Daichi sets the food and coffee down on the small table in front of him before taking a seat in the armchair across from Kuroo.  
  
“There has to be a crisis for me to have breakfast with you?” Daichi asks. He doesn’t need to be told that he didn’t answer the question at hand.  
  
“Thighchi.” Kuroo’s voice is a perfect embodiment of _don’t give me your bullshit_ , a tone that Daichi knows well (and uses himself frequently). “You woke me up at 7 in the morning.” He says pointedly, as if that’s reason enough to prove that something is up. And it is, because it’s an unspoken rule that one should never even think about waking Kuroo Tetsurou up before noon, at the _earliest_. And here Daichi is, at 7 o’clock on a Sunday morning, knocking on Kuroo’s door with gifts of caffeine and unhealthy fried food.  
  
Daichi hands Kuroo a hashbrown and reaches for his coffee, taking a long sip before speaking. “I met someone.”  
  
“Well, yea. I knew that. Did you wake me up just to gush about your new friend?” Kuroo laughs, crunching through his hashbrown. He reaches out an arm, wiggling his fingers, and Daichi wordlessly hands him the other cup of coffee. “What does this guy have, two dicks? How’d he manage to turn the Cap’n into such a blubbering mess?”  
  
Daichi groans into his palm. “I am _not_ a blubbering mess. And I was never your captain.”  
  
“Far as I know, you never rung my doorbell at such a god awful time in the morning when Ikejiri broke up with you. Or when you called it off with Terushima. Oh, wait. You did call me when you snuck out after that one night stand you had a few months ago.” Kuroo cocks an eyebrow. This is a part of Kuroo that not many people understand; the perceptiveness, his instinctive nature that makes it hard to hide anything from him. He watches people and notices the minutest of details, buries it all behind a joke and a smirk so that people only look skin-deep. Which is how Kuroo wants it to be, Daichi thinks. Kuroo points a finger at him, the rest of his fingers still wrapped around his coffee cup. “So either this guy was the best one night stand of your life, or it’s something worse than that.”  
  
“Stop. Talking about sex. And dicks. And him.” Daichi seethes, face heating up.  
  
“Then it’s something worse than that.” Kuroo grins, toothy and sly. “You’ve got _feelings_.”  
  
“I’ve got.” Daichi sighs. “ _Feelings_.”  
  
Kuroo lets out a cackle and drapes his head back over the armrest. “God damnit, Thighchi. So you were kept up all night thinking about these _feelings_ o’yours until you felt like you were gonna go crazy and had nowhere else to go except here.”  
  
“I-” Daichi squints at him, unnerved. “What are you, clairvoyant?”  
  
“No. I’m just your best friend who knows that you never seem to stop thinking silly shit with that stupid head of yours. And who notices that you have bags under your eyes and 3 sugars in your coffee. Which is 3 sugars more than there usually are.” Kuroo reaches out his hand again, wiggling his fingers as he had before, prompting Daichi to reach into the bag, pulling out a breakfast sandwich and handing it to him. Kuroo glances at the empty paper bag. “You didn’t get food for yourself?”  
  
“I was eating Thai take out at 1am.”  
  
Kuroo hums, munching on his sandwich. “So? What’s lover boy like?”  
  
“He’s a model.” Daichi blurts out. “He used to play volley ball. He’s a setter. His nickname was Mr.Refreshing. He likes extra spicy mapo tofu. He has two body guards. He has a mole under his eye. His favourite Thai place is on 7 th street. He has a cat named Pocky. He has a best friend named Asahi. He likes peach green tea lemonades from Starbucks.” It all comes pouring out of him like a dam had broken, leaving Daichi feeling breathless and slightly dizzy. His grip on his coffee cup tightens until the paper cup dents a little under the pressure. Kuroo is sitting up on the couch now, eyes widened just slightly in genuine surprise.  
  
“Damn, bro,” Kuroo whispers, one end of his mouth tugging into the beginnings of a smirk. “Would you like me to punch you so you can feel manly again?”  
  
“Fuck off.” Daichi breathes, burying his face in his hands once again.  
  
“Well.” Kuroo tosses his sandwich wrapper into the paper bag before shrugging. “Y’know. I’m, uh, glad you’re happy, bro.”  
  
Daichi looks up in alarm. It was a rare occurrence for Kuroo to use that tone of sincerity with him, after all. “What?”  
  
“What, what?”  
  
“You’re being… _nice_.” Daichi wrinkles his nose, a laugh bubbling to the surface. “What’s going on?”  
  
Kuroo looks away, rubs the nape of his neck like he’s embarrassed. “Nothing, man. Look, I’ve just known you for a long time and you’ve never seemed all that happy. Like, you get by, you live your life, sure. But you kinda just do what everyone else needs you to do, I guess? So yea, I’m happy that you’re finally happy. Sue me.”  
  
Daichi is stunned into silence, and he’d never admit the feeling of endearment that spreads through his chest as he looks at Kuroo, of all people. King of sarcasm and stupid nick names, never taking anything seriously _Kuroo_. Had Daichi been so miserable that it prompted Kuroo, of all people, to act this way at the slightest sign of happiness from him? Daichi smiles, warm, before furrowing his brows and shooting his best friend a smirk.  
  
“Damn, bro. Would you like me to punch you so you can feel manly again?”  
  
Kuroo chucks a pillow at him and Daichi catches it, laughing with an overwhelming amount of happiness.  
  
\---  
  
“So, what kind of a guy is he?”  
  
Nishinoya tips his head up in thought for a split second before answering. “He’s a sturdy guy.”  
  
“Sturdy?” Asahi echoes in confusion. “Like, he’s muscular?”  
  
“Well, that too, but he gives off a sturdy feeling! Like he’s dependable. I like him. He’s manly!” Nishinoya laughs, loud and booming, before returning to his paperwork. Asahi is stunned; it’s rare for Nishinoya to say that he likes someone right off the bat, after all.  
  
“You only saw him for like, 5 seconds. How do you know that he’s dependable? He could be a conman, trying to trick Koushi into something bad. He could be trying to blackmail him, or post personal pictures of Koushi for profit, or, or-” Asahi rambles, thoughts getting darker and more depressing by the minute. He hadn’t even heard of this _Daichi_ character until the other day, right before Koushi’s accident. And he had been right about all the bad things that could (and did!) happen that day. He did run a background check on Sawamura Daichi, standard procedure just to make sure Koushi was in safe company, and everything had come out clean. But not everything shows up on background checks anyway, and it hadn't given Asahi as much comfort as he had wanted it to.  
  
“I can tell. Asahi-san, please be more manly about things!” Nishinoya scolds, planting his hands on his hips with a huff. “Everything is fine! Koushi-san has me behind him! Besides, anybody and their aunt can tell how much happier Koushi-san has been lately. It’s a good thing.”  
  
Asahi sighs, reviewing Koushi’s schedule for the next day. “I wish I could be as optimistic about things as you are, Nishinoya.”  
  
“You can, Asahi-san. Because you’re amazing!” Nishinoya grins, bright as sunlight, and Asahi is taken aback because just as Nishinoya doesn’t often immediately like people, he even more rarely compliments people so easily.  
  
“I’m amazing? Why would you say that?” Asahi asks, confused.  
  
Nishinoya returns his confused expression, just for a moment. “Why are you so surprised? I’ve always thought that about you, Asahi-san.” He returns to his paperwork for the third time, scratching giant words onto the paper with his messy handwriting. Koushi was going to London soon for a movie premier, and the paperwork was to document that his bodyguards would be going with him; they were sitting in a small office down the hall from where Koushi was currently filming the latest episode of a drama in which he played a secondary character.  
  
“You have?” Asahi is even more confused now, trying to think back to a time when Nishinoya had called him amazing or any synonym of the word. It had always been _stand up straighter, Asahi-san_! Or _don’t be weak willed, Asahi-san_! And Asahi had appreciated the kick from behind because he needed it often, but he had never once known about ‘amazing’ alongside everything else he was to Nishinoya. He’s flattered and his chest constricts just the tiniest bit, because Asahi has always admired how Nishinoya’s small back seems like it could carry the weight of the world, how many times his small hands have saved them over the years, and how many times Noya has saved Asahi from himself. “I never knew you thought that about me. It’s a real compliment coming from you, Noya.”  
  
“Well, sure! It’s what made me fall in love with you, after all!”  
  
Asahi chokes on air, Noya doesn’t look up from the paper in front of him, and it’s at that moment that Tanaka and Koushi walk into the room. Nishinoya greets them with gusto, like he didn’t just confess his love to Asahi as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Koushi glances up at Asahi, taking note of the sickly shade of grey-white he had turned.  “Asahi? You okay?”  
  
His mouth feels like sand as he swallows thickly. Noya still hasn’t looked at him, wrapped up in an energetic conversation with Tanaka. “Y-yea. I’m fine. Let’s go home.”  
  
\---  
  
“Koushi.” Asahi shuts the door behind him with a soft click, his voice trembling around the edges. “Can I talk to you, for a sec?”  
  
Koushi looks up from his book. Upon seeing the expression on Asahi’s face, he places a bookmark between the pages, sets it down on his nightstand and sits up, patting the space on the bed in front of him. Asahi slumps into the space immediately, crossing his legs and looking down at his hands.  
  
“Nishinoya told me that he’s in love with me today.” He says, face scrunching up in confusion. The expression on Koushi’s face is unreadable, and Asahi raises his brows, waiting for a reply.  
  
“And?” Koushi finally says, tilting his head slightly. “Do you love him back?”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘and’? Koushi, this- this is-”  
  
“Completely overdue?” Koushi finishes, mouth drawn into a tight line. “Look, Asahi, Noya’s been in love with you since forever. Since high school. It’s been a long, long time since then, and he never breathed a word about it to anyone because he knew you’d panic like this. But I’m glad that he finally said something about it.”  
  
Asahi balks, mouth hanging open. “He- he what? I had no idea…”  
  
Koushi snorts and rolls his eyes. “Of course you didn’t, Asahi. You’re denser than a slab of concrete sometimes. About this kind of thing, at the very least.”  
  
“Wait, if he never told anyone, how did you know?”  
  
“Because I’m me.” Koushi says, simply, and even though it’s a terrible explanation, Asahi accepts it. Koushi is observant; he knows things about people before people realize it themselves. It’s always been that way and no one has ever doubted something that came out of Koushi’s mouth.  
  
A silence settles in the room and Koushi swears he can _see_ the gears turning in Asahi’s head, his negative and worrisome thoughts flying at a thousand miles per second, so he reaches out and grasps Asahi’s hand in his own. Startled, Asahi jumps slightly and looks up. “Asahi. Don’t freak out, it’s just Nishinoya. Nothing has changed. Face him honestly without any of your negativity getting in the way, and it’ll be fine. Do you love him back? That’s the only question that matters.”  
  
Asahi lowers his gaze again, staring at Koushi’s hand over his. He squeezes it for a brief second before letting go and standing up. “Thanks, Koushi.” He whispers, smiling. With that, he turns and leaves the room as quietly as he had entered it.  
  
\---  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(21:43) Wanna hear something funny?  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(21:50) always.  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(21:52) I forgot to return your shirt.  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(21:54) …so you did. i completely forgot.  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(22:00) Another takeout date then?  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(22:12) i didn’t realize the first one was a date or else i would have dressed for the occasion.  
(22:13) wait, does that mean i got stood up at first?  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(22:15) Sorry, bad wording. Another completely business-like consumption of takeout for the singular purpose of returning your shirt?  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(22:16) you’re so cruel, suga.  
(22:16) i’m free on thursday night. i’ll buy the takeout this time.  
(22:17) don’t get hurt beforehand this time, okay?  
  
**To: Sawamura Daichi**  
**From: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(22:18) I’ll try my very best.  
(22:20) Goodnight, Daichi.  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(22:25) goodnight suga.  
  
\---  
  
“Nishinoya. Can I talk to you privately?” Asahi asks, hands clenched into fists at his side. Nishinoya turns, and a twitch of his brow and a faint glimmer of something unfamiliar in his eyes are the only signs of nervousness that Asahi can detect. But a nervous Nishinoya is something so uncharacteristic that Asahi can’t help but bite his lip, something painful pooling in his chest. But then Noya is grinning like usual, looking pointedly around the empty room.  
  
“Well, we’re already alone if you hadn’t noticed!”  
  
“Right.” Asahi takes a deep breath. “Noya, I was really happy when you told me about your feelings the other day.”  
  
Nishinoya stares at him, smile bright on his face. _He’s putting on a front_ , Asahi realizes. Because there’s a tightness to the way his mouth curves, a hardness in his eyes that isn’t usually there, and Asahi already hates the way that this has become. Noya is an unstoppable force that no immovable object could ever resist, rushing forward and taking flight on the most dazzling of wings. His spirit, his energy, his smile is so dazzling that Asahi sometimes has to shield his eyes, because everything about Noya is beautiful and Asahi can’t bear to know what it’s like to hold it all in his arms and then inevitably lose it. He’s bright, optimistic, _amazing_ , everything that Asahi has ever wanted to be, wanted to _have_ but Noya is uncontainable and Asahi could never move forward without Noya at his back, pushing him endlessly towards something new. He couldn’t lose Nishnoya. He wouldn’t survive it.  
  
So he tightens his fists by his side, steadies his voice.  
  
“But I’m sorry.”  
  
The lines around Nishinoya’s eyes crinkle, his brows dip forward and Asahi can’t recall ever seeing an expression like that on his face since that time in the sports equipment room all those years ago, the pain represented by jagged edges of a broken mop. And then in a flash the expression is gone, and the smile is back, and Noya’s voice does not waver in the slightest when he speaks.  
  
“Asahi-san! You were very manly today!” Noya grins. “I’m proud of you!”

It’s all Asahi can do to smile, nod and make up some one-liner about how they’d be leaving in 35 minutes for Koushi’s magazine interview before promptly leaving the room. He exits the apartment, running towards the door leading to the stairs and collapses underneath a stairwell, curling in on himself and sobbing into his hands.  
  
“I’m sorry, Noya, I’m so sorry,” Asahi sobs quietly, “I’m not who you think I am.”  
  
If he was, he would have the courage to accept what he’s always wanted but never let himself have. He would have the courage to take the world into his arms and have the confidence to know he’d never let it go.  
  
But he doesn’t.    
  
He remembers what Koushi had told him that night in his bedroom, to _be honest_. Asahi hadn’t only let Noya down, but Koushi too, and he feels sorry for the both of them because they were so much better than he ever deserved.  
  
_“Do you love him back? That’s the only question that matters.”_ Koushi had said.  
  
“Yes,” Asahi whispers, face still buried in his hands. “Yes.”


	4. like wishing for rain

If Asahi notices Nishinoya’s red rimmed eyes the next day, he doesn’t question it. Noya is thankful- whether not asking about it is Asahi being compassionate and purposefully turning a blind eye, or if it’s because Asahi himself truly doesn’t have the courage to ask, Noya is thankful either way. He is sure that Koushi notices, judging by the way Koushi worries his bottom lip between his teeth and his brows furrow just the tiniest bit as Noya greets him in the morning. However Koushi doesn’t ask either, only places a gentle hand on Noya’s shoulder, gives it a small squeeze and a kind smile. If Nishinoya Yuu had just a little less willpower he might have crumbled under the weight of that kind smile. He might have crumbled and fell to pieces and dissolved into ash just as he had wanted to do the moment the word _sorry_ came out of Asahi’s mouth the day before.  
  
But Nishinoya Yuu is nothing if not a man with willpower, so instead he smiles and turns on his heels to take his spot next to the doorway. When he sees Asahi walk in a couple minutes later, when Asahi gives him a strained smile and stutters over a greeting, Nishinoya does not falter.  
  
He does not trace his eyes over the shape of the man he has loved for the past 9 years, does not feel like his heart has been ripped out of his chest, does not feel unbearably, painfully empty.  
  
(Except maybe he does.)  
  
\---  
  
After a long day of having to watch Asahi and Nishinoya avoid each other at every opportunity, both looking like they’re on the verge of tears, Koushi is drained. He lays back in bed after a slew of promo events for his new drama, of interviews and press conferences and he’s _exhausted_. And yet, as he closes his eyes, sleep doesn’t come. Instead his thoughts whirl around his head like a hurricane, suddenly feeling like he’s containing so much inside of him that he might explode. Dazed, he steps out of bed and goes to the kitchen to fetch himself a glass of water. As he drinks, the sudden text tone of his phone startles him and the glass in his hand almost slips from his grasp.  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi  
To: Sugawara Koushi  
**  
(01:31) hye pretyy boy have I ever told you that I looovaldjalsdsk dfs  
  
Koushi lets out a small giggle and quirks a brow at the drunken text, his cheeks already turning the slightest tinge of pink from thinking about Daichi calling him _pretty boy_. He’s been called _pretty_ for his nearly his entire life, really; it’s usually the first adjective people reach for much before _handsome_ or even _hot_. It used to bother him, Koushi recalls, feeling like he was only capable of being _pretty_ before _smart_ , or _funny_ , or _courageous_ , all things he would rather be than _pretty_. But _pretty_ got him to where he was today he supposes, and he has been grateful for the quality ever since he started modelling. Tonight, in this moment, Koushi feels that he might even like being called _pretty_ if it was coming out of Daichi’s mouth. He receives another text before he can reply.  
  
**From: Sawamura Daichi**  
**To: Sugawara Koushi**  
  
(01:35) jesus, i’m so sorry suga. my idiot friend stole my phone and ksfdl;asfdf  
  
Koushi lets out a huff and taps CALL before he can stop himself. The three rings that it takes for Daichi to pick up feel like infinities exist within it; Koushi’s heart is pounding in his ears as he stands in the quiet darkness of his kitchen, drumming his fingers along the counter nervously. There’s a click on the other end as the call connects and suddenly Koushi is drowned with a deafening loudness.  
  
“HEY HEY HEY DAICHI’S PRETTY BOYYY,” a rumbling voice roars from the other end- definitely not Daichi, Koushi thinks as he winces, pulling his phone from his ear. “DAICHI WANTS ME TO TELL YOOOU THA- I’m not gonna say anything bad I’m ju- SHIT did you seriously just _bite_ me Dai-”  
  
There’s a frenzied fumbling on the other end and Koushi can’t help but laugh, thinking that Daichi’s crowd is on par with Nishinoya and Tanaka’s level. Which is quite the accomplishment, he thinks in light amusement, for both Daichi’s friends and Daichi himself for being able to put up with it- Koushi would know.  
  
“Helloooo,” another unfamiliar voice drawls from the other end, “is this _the_ infamous Suga?” Koushi wishes he could put a face to the smug sounding voice because he’s fairly sure it’s a face he’d have the urge to smack just once or twice. He swears he can hear a smirk in the tone of his voice and Koushi wasn’t sure that was possible, but the person on the other end of the phone certainly accomplishes it with a smooth success.  
  
“Depends what I’m infamous for.” Koushi chuckles. “What do the rumours say?”  
  
“Oh, y’know. Angel on earth who can consume hell’s hottest flames in mapo tofu. Keeper of our Sawamura-kun’s heart, that kind of stuff.”  
  
There’s a small swooping feeling in Koushi’s stomach and he laughs again as he hears Daichi’s unmistakable voice in the background- _I never said any of that cut the bullshit Kuroo or I swear to God-_ alongside more yelling and sounds of people grappling for the phone. “Well, the first part might be true. I can’t be the one to say regarding that last part, though.”    
  
“Then I’ll be the one to say that it’s _true_ alright- aaaand looks like our time is up but it really was nicetalkingtoyouSuga-kunhere’sCaptainThighchi-” Kuroo says, words blurring together towards the end of the sentence. There’s the sound of someone yelling, a loud thumping noise, a groan of pain and then Daichi’s voice, haggard and panting slightly.  
  
“Hey, Suga,” he wheezes, “sorry about all that.”  
  
“No, it’s okay.” Suga smiles, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. His chest feels warm at the sound of Daichi’s voice and he closes his eyes, lets it surround him and calm the whirling emotions in the pit of his stomach. “Exciting night for you I’m guessing?”  
  
Daichi snorts, and Suga can very clearly picture him rolling his eyes. The sounds of Daichi’s friends are getting fainter in the background and there’s a _click_ of a door before everything is quiet. “Well, it was supposed to be a relaxing movie night. But I should have known there’s nothing relaxing about being with those guys.”  
  
“Sounds fun.”  
  
“If by ‘fun’ you mean having human embodiments of a tornado in your living room. Sorry for bothering you so late, I know you're busy.”  
  
“It’s okay.” Suga whispers. There’s a few beats of silence that Suga revels in, feels the hurricane in his chest die down at the sound of Daichi’s faint breathing on the other end.  
  
“You okay?” Daichi asks, slowly, quietly, his voice gentle and concerned.  
  
Suga wonders, not for the first time, how Daichi can tell when no one else can, how this person that he had only met a couple of weeks ago could already have taken firm steps into the confines of his plastic heart. Everything about Daichi is firm, unwavering, so unbearably dependable, Suga thinks, tears beading at the edges of his eyes. In the frequent hurricane that is his life, Daichi is an anchor that holds him in place and the notion is so irresistible that Suga can’t help but be drawn towards him, again and again.  
  
“Yea,” Suga says, voice cracking just a bit, “just a rough day.”  
  
Daichi doesn’t say anything and stays with Suga on the phone quietly. It’s a marvel how Daichi knows exactly what he needs in that moment, someone to stay with him and ground him when he’s feeling like waves of something unidentifiable are going to drag him under. Just like an anchor, Suga thinks, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.  
  
“Thank you, Daichi.”  
  
“Anytime.” Daichi doesn’t ask, doesn’t probe, doesn’t reassure him that everything is going to be okay. “We still on for Thursday?”  
  
“You bet.”  
  
“Okay. Goodnight, Suga. Call again if you need anything, okay?”  
  
“Goodnight, Captain Thighchi.”  
  
Daichi groans. “ _Please_ , don’t call me that.”  
  
They end the call and Suga crawls back into bed, the world is quiet around him and this time, sleep comes easily.  
  
\---  
  
When Suga stops in front of Daichi’s apartment Thursday evening for their completely business-like consumption of take out, he has already resolved to tell Daichi the full truth of his celebrity status. Suga doesn’t want to hide who he is any longer than he has to, not more than he already has to do every day, and certainly not from Daichi. Because although he has never felt more like himself than when he’s under Daichi’s steady gaze, at the end of the day _Suga_ and _Koushi_ are the same person- two halves of a whole, neither complete without the other. And Suga so desperately wants Daichi to see him, all of him, a single person instead of facets of his personality divided neatly for presentation. Not _Suga_ or _Koushi_ , but properly as _Sugawara Koushi_.  
  
“Hey, Suga. Come on in.” Daichi smiles, holding the door open for Suga to slip by and into the apartment. Suga’s hands are trembling as he slips his shoes off and turns to give Daichi a nervous smile. Daichi frowns, reaches a hand out, hesitates, drops his hand back to his side and settles for asking a simple “you okay?”  
  
“Yes.” Suga says, firm. “I just, kinda have something to tell you.” Then, more hesitant, “…is that okay?”  
  
Daichi’s eyes are gentle, patient. “Sure. Let’s go to the living room.”  
  
Suga drops onto the couch and Daichi brings them each a cup of tea. He takes a seat beside Suga, their elbows just barely touching, and Suga yearns to be enclosed in the warmth that’s only just out of reach. The hurricane is starting again, sending tingles down to the tips of his fingers, high winds throwing his thoughts into disorder. He looks up, looks into Daichi’s eyes and draws strength from the kindness that he finds.  
  
“I haven’t been completely honest.” Suga begins, pressing each of his fingertips against his thumb, one after another to dull the tingling. “When I said I was a model- that isn’t the complete truth.”  
  
Daichi’s eyes are inquisitive, curious, but he sits patiently and waits for Suga to continue.  
  
“The truth is, I’m also an actor. A rather famous one, to put it bluntly.” Suga laughs dryly, briefly considering how ironic it is to have to explain to someone how just how big of a celebrity he is. “I guess you don’t really watch TV or you probably would have recognized my name, or maybe my face. I know it’s a bit unbelievable.” He clenches his hands into fists; the hurricane is roaring, louder, louder, it’s overwhelming and uncontainable and Suga decides, for just this one moment, that he doesn’t want it to be contained. Because he has always felt so much and never been allowed to feel it, always had to be perfect, poised _Koushi_ but in front of Daichi he has never quite been _that_ _Koushi_ , has he?  
  
“It just gets really overwhelming sometimes, you know- being famous, that is. When we first met, the truth is that I snuck out of my apartment because everything was just so _suffocating_. I just wanted to feel free. To be able to walk down the aisle of a grocery store. To be able to go and order a Starbucks drink and not be surrounded by people, by flashing cameras. Except it didn’t really go as planned, and I almost gave in and accepted the fact that I wasn’t normal and I could never feel normal again.” Koushi takes a breath, feeling the familiar burn behind his eyes that warned of tears to come. He continues regardless. “But then I met you.”  
  
He looks into Daichi’s eyes at this point, and as always Daichi is smiling, kind, warm, and then the tears _do_ come. “You didn’t know who I was, you had no idea and I took advantage of that. Because being with you is so _easy_ and for the first time in so long I felt human. I felt normal. But I realized that I don’t want to hide under yet another face- I want to be seen. Really be seen.” Then, a whisper: “even if only by you.”  
  
Suga draws in a ragged breath, the hurricane in his chest dulled to a mild drizzle. For the first time in his life he said everything he wanted to say, to the person he wanted to say it to, freely and fully, and the drizzle is so comforting that the tears only come harder. There’s a thumb on each of his cheeks, palms on each side of his face, and Daichi is wiping away Suga’s tears one by one. Daichi’s hands are big and warm and just a little rough, and Suga closes his eyes, revels in the slow drag of each thumb across the peaks of his cheekbones.  
  
“I see you, Suga.” Daichi whispers, low.  
  
“You see me.” Suga echoes back, peering up through wet lashes.  
  
“I see you.”  
  
And then Daichi is leaning in, pressing his lips against Suga’s, warm, dry, steady, and Suga feels so dizzy that he has to grip onto Daichi’s arm to anchor himself. As always, Daichi is firm under his fingers, and Suga can’t help but lean into him, kissing back with mild desperation.  
  
The first time they met, he blinded Daichi with his lemonade. The second time, he stood Daichi up and showed up hours later with cheap Thai food and good conversation. The third time, he poured his heart out onto the palm of Daichi’s hand.  
  
Daichi seals it with a kiss and a promise to keep it safe.  
  
\---  
  
“You made this?” Suga asks in surprise, half an hour later.  
  
“Well, yea,” Daichi says sheepishly, rubbing at the nape of his neck. “It’s kinda cold now because we got, er, sidetracked.” A blush creeps its way onto Daichi’s cheeks and Suga can’t help but laugh. Certainly, sidetracked would be the right way to word it- somehow a single, gentle kiss had morphed into half an hour of feverish tongues and lips and teeth. When hands started to wander it was all they could do to pull themselves away and suggest maybe, possibly slowing down. Only then did Daichi bring up the fact that he had actually made them dinner instead of ordering take out like they had originally planned.  
  
“I kinda figured that you have to watch what you eat because of your job and all. I didn’t want to get you in trouble for eating too much take out.” Daichi chuckles, but he stops and suddenly his eyes are widening in a fit of panic. “Oh God, that sounded like I was calling you fat, didn’t it? That’s not what I meant, in fact I think that you could stand to eat a little more ‘cause you’re- wait, no.” He groans and buries his face in his hands. “Why am I always like this when I’m with you? I swear I’m usually a lot more eloquent.”  
  
Suga is laughing, trying to pry Daichi’s hands from his face without much success. When he finally does, Daichi’s face is beet red and his mouth is curved into a grimace, which Suga promptly leans in to kiss away.  
  
Inside Suga’s chest, there’s sunlight.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *aggressively projects personal feelings of anxiety onto Suga* 
> 
> hmu on my [tumblr](http://www.amaanogawa.tumblr.com), yo.


	5. easily lose my mind

Sawamura Daichi is happy. So deeply, genuinely, disgustingly happy in a way that he never thought he could be. Daichi is happy for the feel of soft lips pressing against his own, for the sound of laughter over delicious food and candlelight, for the touch of a warm hand and whispers of "see you soon". He is happy for so many reasons that he had only just discovered, things that had been right in front of him all this time and yet never made apparent to him. In fact, Daichi is so happy that even the sight of his best friend shooting him the deadliest glare he's ever been on the opposite end of is enough to make him grin in earnest. He jams a foot between the door and its frame just in time as Kuroo attempts to slam it shut, leaning forward to peek through the small opening.

"C'mon, Kuroo. Don't be like that!" Daichi chirps between his toothy grin, dangling a paper bag emanating the smell of bacon grease.

"No. Not even free breakfast is getting you out of this one. The sun isn't even up yet, are you fucking kidding me?" Kuroo grumbles, straining against the door. "I don't care what your crisis is, it can wait until my eyes are capable of opening."

Try as he might, even Kuroo knows that when it comes to brute strength, Daichi has more than enough arm wrestle wins to prove who would come out victorious. He pushes in with ease and lets Kuroo fall against the door behind him with a grunt and a plethora of curse words. Despite the bad mood, he follows Daichi into the living room obediently, immediately slumping lengthwise onto the couch that is nearly a foot too short for him.

"So, what is it this time?" Kuroo yawns, asking in spite of himself. "You finally hook up with boy angel?"

Daichi says nothing, sips at his coffee with reddened cheeks. Kuroo lets out a whistle that may have been more enthusiastic if it hadn't been such an ungodly time in the morning.

"Good going, Cap'n. You're a man now."

"Shut up." Daichi hisses, red up to his ears. "I didn't- I didn't _hook up_ with him, why are you always so vulgar?"

Kuroo lets out a chuckle, and Daichi can see the grin that starts to grow on his face. "So you guys made out like a couple of high school kids and that got you so hot n' bothered that you couldn't sleep for the entire night? I think boy angel somehow managed to give your virginity _back_ to you, Thighchi."

Daichi sighs, buries his face in his hands. A few moments pass as he gathers his thoughts before murmuring, "I don't know, it just...it feels different. He feels different. And you know I'm not some silly romantic or anything, you know how I am. But I think this is different. In a way I can't explain."

He pauses and braces himself for the merciless teasing, but it doesn't come. Instead, there's only the sound of soft breathing accompanied by the steady rising and falling of Kuroo's chest. Daichi huffs, digs out a greasy breakfast sandwich and grabs the newspaper sitting on the small coffee table between them.

"Geez, at least listen to someone when they're talking."

\---

A few weeks later, Suga invites Daichi to a party.

They hadn't been able to meet since that night because of Suga's busy schedule, and since the party was something of a PR thing for the upcoming drama, Suga had no choice but to attend. Daichi had long left his party days behind; now his alcohol hazed nights were definitely few and far between. But he had to admit that he was interested in seeing who Suga was outside of the bubble that is Daichi's apartment, safe and distanced from the foreign world that Suga lives in. He had googled Suga's name when he got a chance and discovered that Suga had his own Wikipedia article.

 _"How famous do you have to be to have your own Wikipedia article?_ " Daichi wondered to himself. He didn't know.

The night of the party, Kuroo is sitting beside Daichi as they're brought to the club that the party is being held at in a car that was sent for them by Asahi. It certainly felt strange to be picked up by a stern looking man dressed in a sharp suit and sunglasses, coil behind his ear, being called "sir" and having the door opened for him as he climbed inside the Benz. Kuroo, no doubt caught off guard, is able to keep a surprisingly straight face.

"So," he begins casually, glancing over at Daichi. "You never told me that boy angel is apparently royalty."

"He's not royalty." Daichi chuckles awkwardly, "his full name is Sugawara Koushi."

Kuroo's face is impassive. His voice is steady as he says "ah. So not royalty. Just one of the most famous celebrities in Japan right now."

Daichi nods sheepishly.

"Let me guess. You had no idea who he was until he told you."

"Shut up. You know I don't watch TV."

Kuroo snickers, and Daichi briefly wonders how Kuroo accepts everything as easily as he does, like his best friend dating a celebrity was just some funny life thing that happens. Any normal person might have a much more exaggerated reaction. But not Kuroo. Sometimes Daichi feels like he may not know Kuroo as well as Kuroo lets him believe he does. 

The rest of the drive to the club is quiet.

\---

"Daichi!" Suga smiles, throwing his arms around Daichi and giving him a hug. He lingers for a beat too long before letting go and turning to Kuroo. "And the infamous Kuroo! I'm so glad you could make it."

"Thanks for inviting me as a tag-along," Kuroo smiles crookedly, reaching out to shake Suga's hand. "And thanks for always taking care of our Cap'n."

Daichi lightly smacks Kuroo across the head, his cheeks tinged pink. "Shut it, Kuroo."

Suga laughs as he hooks an arm through both Daichi and Kuroo's, leading them towards the club doors. "Alright, alright let's go inside already!"

\---

The beat of the music reverberates in Kuroo's bones as he leans against the wall, taking another sip of his drink and relishing the burn on his tongue. He surveys the club-goers with little interest, eyes skimming the crowd. There are some faces that he recognizes, many famous celebrities that he knows of but doesn't care for. Daichi is there among the people, hands on Suga's hips, laughing as he pulls Suga in close and buries his nose in the crook of Suga's neck. He looks happy, so utterly in love, and Kuroo smiles despite the furrow in his brow.

He needs another drink.

"Lagavulin, neat." Kuroo says over the music, sliding the bartender his glass. It's open bar, and Kuroo is so very grateful because he's going to need it if he's to be standing on the edge for the entire night watching his best friend dance with his boyfriend. His "something different". His defies explanation, whirlwind of a love who happens to be gorgeous in every way that Kuroo is not, kind and warm and funny and fucking famous, for god's sake. Kuroo sips at his whiskey, fingertips tracing the rim of the glass absentmindedly when someone takes a seat next to him.

"Gin and tonic, Bombay Sapphire." The man says. He doesn't look at Kuroo, despite having purposefully taken a seat beside him at the bar when there are plenty of other available seats. Kuroo isn't sure if the man doesn't know what social cue this meant or if he was interested but too shy to actually initiate conversation. The whiskey burns as he swallows and when he looks back out to the dance floor, Daichi dips Suga low and pulls him back up, twirling him around as they both laugh happily. As Suga places his lips against Daichi's neck, Kuroo decides, what the hell.

"Are you one of the hot shots or just friend of a hot shot?" Kuroo asks with an easy smile, turning towards the man beside him. The man slides his eyes towards Kuroo, and Kuroo can certainly appreciate how they shine gold even in the dim club lighting, matching the gold of the man's hair.

"More like hired by the hot shots." The man says finally. He doesn't smile, but his eyes linger on Kuroo's face before meaningfully tracing down Kuroo's torso. "I'm one of the DJs tonight."

"DJ." Kuroo whistles. "So I guess you'll be here all night, huh?"

"Actually," the man says with nonchalance, "my shift just ended." With that, he sets his empty glass on the bar counter and stands, begins to walk towards the club entrance. He glances back at Kuroo, raises his brows in question. Kuroo takes one last look at Daichi, this time lips against lips, swaying together to the music.

What the hell.

Kuroo follows.

\---  
  
It doesn't matter that the man is not particularly talkative because talking isn't necessary after that, apart from the odd whisper of _more,_ or _harder,_ or maybe even  _please_.  
  
It's okay because Kuroo needs this, needs this more than he does being woken up at ungodly times in the morning, more than he does greasy breakfast food shared over light conversation, more than he does cheap fast food coffee and warm, amber brown eyes that crinkle at the edges. What he needs is skin on skin, hot and fast and slick and it doesn't matter that the man is thinner, longer and sharper around the corners than what Kuroo craves, doesn't matter that the hands he holds in his own is milky white instead of olive. Where he wants to see dark amber all he sees is gold and Kuroo thinks he might be drowning in it. But the sex is good and for a little while he stops thinking about how Daichi finally found the salvation that Kuroo has always, always wanted to be but could never quite become.

"Holy shit." Kuroo breathes afterwards, an arm draped across his eyes. "That was..."

"Yea," the man says, reaching down over the bed to pluck a pair of boxers off the floor. "That was."

Sitting up, Kuroo stares at the man pad around the room, busying himself with pouring a glass of water. There's a heaviness in the air, the awkward tension of how to say goodbye immediately after having intensely rough sex with a complete stranger without causing any drama. Kuroo clears his throat.

"You don't need to say any pretty words. Don't pretend that this meant any more to you than it did to me." The man says, walking over and handing the glass of water to Kuroo. "I'm gonna go take a shower, and when I come out you'll be gone. That's it."

Kuroo smiles, thankful for the man's straightforwardness. He reaches out to take the glass but closes his hands around the man's fingers. "And here I was thinking we could have another go in the shower."

The man smirks, leans down for a chaste kiss. "Not tonight." With that, he untangles his fingers from Kuroo's and walks into the washroom, closing the door behind him. Kuroo stands, dresses, tries to tame his crazy bedhead/sexhair with his fingers by the mirror when he notices the pad of paper that each hotel room has on the desk. The writing is in blue ink, neat, precise and simple.

 _Tsukishima Kei_  
519-834-2930

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *breathes* ho-ly shit, it's been awhile and I'm so sorry I left this hanging. A lot of shit suddenly went down so I didn't have a chance to properly sit down and write, but I'm glad I could finally get this up. Thank you all for your patience and I sincerely hope you enjoy this Kurotsuki-centric chapter. 
> 
> Visit me on my [tumblr](http://www.amaanogawa.tumblr.com)!


	6. i'll be your lifeline

"Kou-chan!"

The first word that comes to mind when Daichi looks at the man currently walking towards them was _beautiful_. Large almond shaped eyes framed by the longest lashes Daichi had ever bothered to notice on a man, perfect bow shaped lips under a perfect ski slope nose. If Suga was the pretty classmate that you fall in love with during after school dates to the pork bun stand, this man was the faraway school idol you could only hope to watch from afar. Daichi knew this man, had thought him just as frighteningly beautiful years ago when they first met.

"Oikawa." Suga smiles, giving him a light hug. "I didn't know you were back from America! How was your trip?"

"Oh, you know." Oikawa says, waving his hand dismissively. "Same old work stuff. I did try to sneak off for some _real_ fun, but..."

"I'm sure Iwaizumi let you know exactly how he felt about that." Suga chuckles behind his hand.

Oikawa huffs and crosses his arms in defiance. "He actually hit me, Kou-chan! He hit the most expensive face in Japan right now! Can you believe him?"

"I can, actually, considering he has to put up with you for twenty four hours a day, seven days a week." Suga says, rolling his eyes. He glances over at Daichi with a smile. "Oikawa, this is Sawamura Daichi. I brought him as my plus one."

Oikawa turns, raising a brow quizzically. He stares at Daichi a little closer and his futile attempts to hide his growing displeasure only results in an awkward grimace, seemingly out of place among Oikawa's delicate features. "Well if it isn't Karasuno's Captain-san! It's been quite awhile, hasn't it?"

"Oikawa." Daichi says, extending his hand. "It's been almost a decade, if you can believe that."

"I can't say that I've missed you, unfortunately," Oikawa's smile is strained. "I hope you're not offended, but you are tied to one of the most bitter memories from my youth, after all."

"That match is still, to this day, one of the best matches I've ever had the honour of playing." Daichi says, firm. "For me, it's a treasured memory."

A look of surprise registers on Oikawa's face and there's a moment of silence before he shakes his head, exasperated. "That's easy to say coming from the winner, isn't it? Anyway, as much as I've _loved_ this reunion, I've got to go make the rounds of greetings. See you, Kou-chan. Sawamura-kun." With that, Oikawa gives another forced smile and turns, disappearing into the crowd of people.

Daichi frowns, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Suga. Seems like I hit a nerve there."

"No, that's okay." Suga says, stare lingering after Oikawa's retreating back. "I don't think that was really about you at all, to be honest. Did you play against each other back in the day?"

"He was the most formidable opponent I've ever faced." Daichi says, soft. "Each time I faced him on the court, I felt shivers. No one else was quite as driven as he was. But then one day he just disappeared from volleyball."

"I see...well, he certainly took the entertainment industry by storm." Suga chuckled, eyes softening. "No one's ever seen a rookie model rise to fame so quickly. He hasn't lost his drive, even if it's placed elsewhere now."

"No. I suppose he hasn't." Daichi smiles.

\---

"Oikawa?" Iwaizumi calls, walking down the dark hallway leading to the back door of the club. The music fades behind him as he goes. "Hey, where are you?"

He lets out a huff of exasperation, hands on hips when he sees a familiar human shaped ball curled up against the wall, head tucked between his knees. Sliding down against the wall into a squatting position beside him, he places a hand on Oikawa's trembling back. "What happened now?"

"...It hurts." Oikawa says softly, squeezing his knee in one hand. "It hurts, Iwa-chan."

"Your knee healed years ago. It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Even so," Oikawa says, lifting his head and giving Iwaizumi a bitter smile. "It hurts anyway."

Iwaizumi sighs, places his hand over Oikawa's. Together they hold the battered and broken knee that robbed Oikawa of everything he had ever dreamed of, that despite healing just fine would never allow Oikawa the movement and flexibility to jump high enough or run fast enough for a professional court ever again.

"I know." Is all Iwaizumi says because he does, he understands more than anyone ever could. He was there, after all, there at the appointment when the doctors lay down the news, there as Oikawa screamed bloody murder and spent hours smashing anything in his apartment that he could lay hands on, there as he stopped speaking or eating or even crying, there to clean up the messes and force food and water down Oikawa's throat.

Oikawa slumps against Iwaizumi's shoulder, solid and dependable and just a bit too bony. Iwaizumi sighs and leans back, pressing their weight against each other and Oikawa nearly sobs in relief because it's Iwa-chan there with him, through all the mean nicknames and head hitting and disciplining its Iwa-chan, has always, always been Iwa-chan. The Iwa-chan that pulled him up by the collar, stared directly into his hopeless eyes only to shout that he too, would never set foot onto a professional court again. Not without Oikawa.

_"You dragged me into volleyball in the first place, so I'll follow you out, Shittykawa. I'll follow you wherever you decide to go so you better choose somewhere good, you hear me?"_

Oikawa had begged him, pleaded and cried. _"Don't do this, Iwa-chan. Don't do this don't ruin your life because of me, you can play so play, please-"_

But Iwaizumi simply placed his volleyball shoes, along with his knee pads and Aobajousai uniform into a box, set it in the back corner of his closet and shut the door. He closed away his dream, his love, his passion all for Oikawa and never looked back, never ever showed even one hint of regret for everything he so willingly gave up. It was then and there that Oikawa decided he wasn't only going to take Iwaizumi "somewhere good". He was going to take him to the best god damned place they could reach. Where Iwaizumi could have anything he ever wanted. Where he could be as happy as he could ever hope to be without that Olympic stage.

Which, Oikawa knew, wouldn't be very much.

But he was going to try anyway.

"I love you, Iwa-chan." Oikawa says.

"I know." Iwaizumi answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapter this time around, but I hope you enjoy regardless! Thank you for all the kind words and encouragements. It's appreciated more than you guys know. :)
> 
> Visit me on my [tumblr](http://www.amaanogawa.tumblr.com)!


	7. i've been drowning here for days

Kuroo absolutely hates how his throat still jumps into his throat each time he hears his name being called by that familiar voice. How the butterflies start in his stomach, how his hands begin to tingle, how he can't help but obey so god damned obediently no matter what time of day that voice decides to show up. How he's always missing the shade of dark amber that never fails to make his chest constrict.

"Kuroo!" Daichi calls over the music, wading through the crowd of club-goers with a frown on his face. "Where have you been for the past few hours? You just disappeared all of a sudden."

 _I left and fucked a complete stranger in order to stop myself from breaking over you_ , is on the tip of Kuroo's tongue- because some days he feels like he's so crammed full of secrets that maybe he _wants_ to let them overflow. Instead, as always, he throws an easy smile on his face and says, "I was sitting at the bar, Cap'n. You know dancing isn't my thing."

"The bar? I checked there a few times looking for you." Daichi's eyes narrow in confusion, but suddenly his eyes are focusing on the left side of Kuroo's neck. "Kuroo, is that- is that a hickey?"

Kuroo's hand flies up, clamping over the aforementioned spot as his eyes widen just the tiniest bit, his armor of crooked smiles and nonchalance cracking at the surface. He weakly remembers the feeling of lips and teeth on his neck, kissing, biting, _sucking_ , a feeling that may have been glazed over by the desperation bleeding out his skin. _Shit_ , Kuroo thinks, watching Daichi's frown grow with disapproval.

"Kuroo...are you, uh," Daichi begins to say, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth in worry. "Don't tell me you're starting that phase again? ...you said you'd stop after last time."

And it begins- a war wages on within Kuroo, the battle between what Kuroo wants to say and what ends up coming out. _It's because of you_ , Kuroo wants to scream, _it's you it's all because of you please look at me please_ \- but instead what he says is, "relax, will ya Cap'n? We're at a party with beautiful models and famous celebrities, of course I'm gonna take the chance if I get it."

Daichi's brows furrow at this and he folds his arms across his chest. "Kuroo. You know this is how it starts. Every time. You say it's a one time thing and then suddenly you're sleeping with anything that moves and landing yourself in all kinds of trouble. Please don't start again, remember senior year of high school when that lady's husband broke two of your ribs-"

 _When you told Ikejiri you were in love with him_ ,

"Or third year university when that guy ended up stalking you for months-"

_Because you and Terushima moved in together,_

"And when the blonde went crazy in your apartment and you had to call the police-"

 _Your one night stand_. Kuroo finishes, eyes never leaving Daichi's face.

"Haven't you learned, Kuroo? You're really gonna start this again?" Daichi stares right back, confrontational gaze laced with concern, dark amber boring a hole straight through Kuroo's carefully constructed armour. Usually this is when Kuroo relents, throws up his hands and admits defeat because he knows that a part of him will always want to let Daichi have the last word. But today he can't bring himself to do it. Today he narrows his eyes, adds another layer of ice to his practiced smile.

_Don't do it, Tetsurou. Don't fucking say it._

"Man, are you this paternal around Suga, too?"

He knows what the answer is going to be. But he wants to hear it anyway.

"Of course not," Daichi scoffs. "You and Suga are like night and day. He's completely different from you."

There is it. The confirmation from the man himself, reminding Kuroo exactly how _different_ he is from what Daichi wants, what Daichi needs. His words are like a freight train, slamming into Kuroo and it actually knocks the wind out of him. For a few moments he loses any ability to speak, to think, to see clearly, because it fucking hurts and Kuroo did it to himself on purpose. He wanted to hear it from Daichi's mouth. Wanted to feel the pain, wanted to have the air robbed from his lungs; he wanted all of it, anything so long as it was Daichi on the other end.

"Kuroo...?" Daichi asks, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"I'm going home." Is what Kuroo finally ends up saying. He turns abruptly, movements robotic, pushing through the crowd of dancing strangers. It's all encompassing. It's suffocating him, the lights are blinding, the music is deafening, and Daichi's words are threatening to slice right through his throat with a single move.

"Wha- Kuroo!" Daichi reaches out a hand, grabs onto Kuroo's arm, but Kuroo shakes it easily from his grasp.

It's all he can do to throw a smile over his shoulder, because despite everything, it'll always be in his nature to make sure Daichi is okay first. To reassure Daichi. To protect Daichi. It'll always be Daichi, Kuroo thinks, and that scares the shit out of him more than anything ever could. "I'll call a cab, don't worry. Tell Suga I said thanks for the invite. Bye, Daichi."

On his way home, he sends a text to Tsukishima Kei.

_Are you free tomorrow?_

The response he gets is just the name of a hotel and "7:00pm". Kuroo taps out of his text messages, staring at his phone background. It's him and Daichi, cheek to cheek, Kuroo grinning widely and flashing a peace sign next to Daichi's face. Daichi is making a comically stern expression but his mouth is turned up just slightly at the corners, eyes already crinkling at the edges from trying to hold back his laughter. Next to Kuroo's face, he holds up his hand in a rock n' roll gesture. It had been Kuroo's birthday, the two of them had celebrated together with cheap beer and a sad looking cake from the grocery store. They watched Pacific Rim three times before Daichi ended up falling asleep on Kuroo's couch.

Kuroo doesn't want to admit how long he spent staring at Daichi's sleeping face.

With a sigh, he turns his phone off. The picture of him and Daichi turns to black.

\---

"Hey, Daichi? Is everything okay?" Suga appears from the crowd, taking Daichi's hand in his own. "Did you end up finding Kuroo?"

"Yea..." Daichi says, still staring after the spot where Kuroo disappeared from his sight. "I think- I think something's wrong with him."

"What do you mean?" Suga asks, tugging Daichi to the sidelines of the dance floor. The music is loud with a pulsating beat, multi-coloured lights dance across Daichi's face as he stares at the ground, thinking for a few moments.

Daichi turns to him, an unreadable expression on his face. "He called me Daichi." He finally says, almost more to himself than to Suga.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand?"

"He never calls me Daichi. It's always some stupid nickname, like Cap'n, or Thighchi. He _never_ calls me by my name, Suga." Panic is reflected in Daichi's eyes and he starts feelings his pockets, patting himself down. "Phone, where is my-"

"Daichi!" Suga grabs Daichi's hands, bringing him to a stop. Daichi's eyes are wide, his brows furrowed in concern. Suga stares at the look on his face for a few seconds before turning and guiding him through the crowd, fingers firm on Daichi's wrist. Daichi doesn't resist, allowing himself to be pulled along until they're outside in the sticky late summer air; suddenly everything is quiet, the party closed securely behind the heavy metal doors. Suga doesn't say a word, just grips Daichi's hand in his own and looks at him with a quizzical expression.

"The last time he called me by my name, he disappeared for weeks," Daichi explains faintly. "When I saw him again he was in the hospital. He got beat up by some guys because he slept with one of their girlfriends. Someone found him lying in an alleyway."

Suga frowns and gives Daichi's hand a squeeze. "Hey. Everything's going to be alright. If you're worried, why don't you head over to his place? He just left for home right?"

Daichi nods, still deep in thought. "Yea. I think I'll do that. I'm sorry, is it okay if I leave first?"

"Of course," Suga smiles, cupping Daichi's cheek with a warm hand. "Go make sure Kuroo is okay. Will you call me after and let me know if everything is okay?"

"I will. Thanks, Suga." Daichi smiles and wraps a hand around the nape of Suga's neck, pulling him up into a brief kiss. "I'll contact you. See you soon, okay?"

"Yup," Suga whispers against Daichi's lips, giving him another peck before pulling back. "I'll see you soon."

With that, Daichi turns and heads toward the main street in order to hail a taxi.

\---

"Asahi-san, Ryuu just called in with his report. He said that they're in the car on their way back here now."

"Thanks, Noya. You can go home now, I'll wait for them while I finish this." Asahi says without looking up from his paperwork. When no response comes, he sets down his pen and looks up in confusion. Nishinoya is still standing by the doorway, hands clenched into fists by his sides.

"I should never have told you." Nishinoya whispers, frustration in his voice. His gaze is focused on the ground in front of him rather than at Asahi's face. "I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"What are you talking about?" Asahi asks slowly, getting up out of his chair. He walks around the desk he was working on and comes to a stop a little ways from Nishinoya. "Noya, what's the matter?"

There's something unidentifiable in Nishinoya's eyes as he looks up, mouth pinched into a hard line. "I'm talking about this," he says, pointing at the floor between them. "The distance you're putting between the two of us. If I knew that telling you how I felt was going to affect us like this I would never have done it."

Asahi swallows thickly. The look on Nishinoya's face twists his insides, guilt spreading through his chest just as it had every single day since that great big lie had tumbled from his lips. If he could just be honest, if he could just come out and tell Nishinoya everything, would it erase that look from his face? Would it stop his hands from trembling like that? Would it get rid of the bags under his eyes? Asahi opens his mouth, takes a breath, tries to speak. He tries, he swears he does, tries to tell Nishinoya _I love you, I love you, I love you so god damned much_ , but the words get caught in his throat and he feels like he's choking on them.

"Would it be better for you if I quit?" Noya's voice is small.

"No!" Asahi yells, eyes wide with fear. "Noya, I-"

What could he really say? What could he say to make this better when he was this cowardly? So much so that he would hurt the man he loves because he was simply too scared to tell the truth?

"Noya, I don't want you to leave." He whispers, voice hoarse. That was the truth. He would start with the truths that he _could_ say, and work his way from there.

"Then what do you want, Asahi-san? I don't want it to be like this anymore... I don't need you to love me back. But I really can't stand being treated like a stranger." Nishinoya sounds so scared, so fragile that each syllable is like a cut to Asahi's skin. He did this. He made Nishinoya sound this way. The thought is like torture, flames licking at his nerves, raw and excruciating and all he can think about is how he deserves this. How he caused this.

"You're really important to me, Noya. You are." Asahi manages to croak. "I never meant for it to be this way. I'm sorry."

Nishinoya studies the look on Asahi's face for a few moments before summoning a small smile. "Can we just try to go back to the way we were, Asahi-san? That's all I want."

The guilt twists deeper, deeper, deeper into Asahi's gut as he nods, mouth curving up into an artificial smile. "Thank you, Noya."

"Goodnight, Asahi-san."

"Goodnight."

Behind his back, Asahi's fists are clenched so hard that the tips of his fingers go white. Bloodless. Gutless. Cowardly.

\---

Kuroo answers the door after the fifth knock, eyes wide with surprise. "What are you doing here?" He asks with an edge to his voice, and for the first time, Daichi feels unwelcome at the small apartment he had long thought as his second home. He isn't sure why he felt so incredibly panicked just because his best friend called him by name. It was the look on Kuroo's face, maybe, something in his eyes that made Daichi feel like he would wake up the next day and Kuroo would be gone. Just like that, disappeared without a trace like smoke melting into the air.

"Kuroo, you..." He starts, eyes darting between Kuroo and the floor. "You're not going to disappear again, are you?"

There's a few beats of silence where Daichi had expected incredulous laughter and _what the hell are you talking about, you idiot?_ But instead it's silence, and the longer Daichi stares at Kuroo the farther away that answer seems to get.

"Go home, Cap'n. It's late." Kuroo says finally, a practiced smile on his face. This Kuroo isn't foreign to Daichi; his words are covered with a thick layer of ice and Daichi can almost see the walls going up, closing him out indefinitely. This Kuroo is putting up his barriers and it means that there's nothing Daichi can do to stop him from his recklessness.

When Kuroo goes to shut the door, this time Daichi keeps his foot out of the way and lets him.

Kuroo stops answering his door after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry that i hurt everyone i love *lays on the floor* but apparently i really like writing things that bring me pain
> 
> Come yell at me on my [tumblr](Http://www.amaanogawa.tumblr.com)


	8. these nights never seem to go to plan

Suga curls into Daichi's side, legs swung over Daichi's lap, arms entangled together holding each other closely. They sit together on Daichi's couch, some random movie playing in the background. A comfortable silence lingers in the air and Suga can't ever remember being so safe. So warm. So happy. He nuzzles into the warmth, silvery hair tickling the side of Daichi's neck. Daichi looks down with a soft smile on his lips.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." Suga mumbles, trying to curl in impossibly closer. "Just happy."

Daichi hums, thumb absentmindedly brushing over Suga's knuckles as his eyes drift back to the glow of the television. Suga watches him, mentally tracing over the lines of Daichi's face. The prominence of his brow. The gentle slope of his nose. The shape of his lips. He's so beautiful, all of him, so strong and firm under Suga's fingertips. Suga thinks about how lost and afraid he was before all of this, how cold he felt before Daichi found him. He thinks about how Daichi appeared like a warm tide in his life, the healing pull after a destructive storm.

"Are you? Happy?" He blurts, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Of course I am." Daichi huffs, brows furrowing in confusion as he smiles. "I'm very happy, Suga. Why wouldn't I be?"

Suga shrugs, staring ahead at the movie instead of into Daichi's eyes. "I dunno. I just never thought anyone would be happy dating me because of...y'know. I don't get to see you very much, and we can't even go out because of the paparazzi. Are you really happy like this?"

"I'm not with you for the fancy dates." Daichi laughs, arms tightening around Suga's slender frame. "Besides, this is the best date I've had in _years_. Don't you think so?"

Suga considers their set up: candles flickering on the coffee table, popcorn bowl sitting on the floor in front of them, pajama clad bodies pressed close together, fleece blanket pulled across their shoulders as Daichi traces slow circles onto Suga's hip.

He smiles, tugs Daichi down for a kiss. "Yes," he whispers against Daichi's lips. "It's perfect."

Daichi presses their mouths together again, this time working Suga's mouth open before flicking a tongue against his lower lip. Suga whines, kisses back feverishly and tangling his fingers into the short strands of Daichi's hair. He feels Daichi lick into his mouth, feels the breath being robbed from his lungs and he goes light-headed under Daichi's touch. Daichi kisses Suga once more on the lips, again on the cheek, and finally on his forehead; Suga can feel his cheeks burning scarlet, and he ducks his face in embarrassment. It's amazing how Suga has stood on many stages in front of thousands of people, how he's been interviewed by some of the biggest names in mainstream media, how he can go on national television and keep his calm and yet it all unravels into nothing in front of a single person. Suddenly, Daichi leans in abruptly, peppering kisses all over Suga's face.

"Daichi!" Suga laughs, trying to push Daichi off of him. "Cut it out!"

He pulls back, cheeks flushed pink and a triumphant grin on his face that Suga huffs in exasperation at.

"Oh, what happened with Kuroo the other night? You never let me know how that turned out."

Daichi grimaces, expression turning solemn. "He shut me out. He gets like that sometimes. There's nothing to do but to give him some space until he comes around."

Suga runs his hands down Daichi's comfortingly, a hum at the back of his throat. "Does he do this often?"

"It's happened a few times. I tried going to meet him yesterday, but either he's not home or he's ignoring the door. I'll give him another week or so before I go and break the door down."

"I'm sure he'll come around, Daichi." Suga smiles, leaning back onto Daichi's shoulder.

"Yea. He always does." Daichi says, placing another kiss on top of Suga's hair. The comfortable silence returns now, and Suga closes his eyes to revel in the feel of Daichi's fingertips, warm on his skin. The movie continues to play in the background as he drifts off to sleep.

It really is perfect.

\---

Sex with Tsukishima is easy. There's no whispers of sweet nothings, no need to butter him up in order to charm him into bed. There's only one text, a hotel name, a room number, and a time. Then there's sweat and skin on skin, desperation and pleasure and a dull pain in Kuroo's chest that he overlooks time and time again. When they're done, Kuroo says his goodbye, Tsukishima may or may not respond, and Kuroo leaves. Easy. Simple. Clean.

"God damn." Kuroo grins, satiation washing over him in waves. He sucks one last bruise into Tsukishima's skin and Kuroo realizes how he's grown to like watching the red-purple bloom across the canvas of milky white. Tsukishima is so damn fair everywhere, and no matter how much Kuroo looks he can't find even a single freckle among all the white. "That was amazing."

Tsukishima doesn't reply, cards his fingers through Kuroo's hair once before pushing him off. At that, Kuroo stands, dresses, and lingers in front of the mirror trying to tame the birds nest on his head.

"Kuroo-san."

"Hmm?" Kuroo hums absentmindedly, still tugging at unruly strands of hair.

"I'm gonna order room service. Do you want anything?"

Kuroo's fingers freeze, and he slowly looks up towards the bedroom where Tsukishima is still sitting on the bed, now covered in a large blue sweater with a stretched out collar. He stares back, head tilted questioningly. "Uh," Kuroo says, straightening up. "Isn't that kinda, not allowed?"

"Why?" Tsukishima asks, furrowing his brow.

"Cause...we usually don't do that."

Tsukishima's confused frown deepens and he shrugs. "Suit yourself, I was just asking to be polite." He picks up the hotel phone and dials the room service number, waits a few moments before ordering some pasta and a bottle of wine. Kuroo watches, still baffled.

"I'll have a curry. Sweet, not spicy." He says finally, and Tsukishima's eyes dart towards him before he nods and adds the curry order to his list. He hangs up and Kuroo slowly makes his way back into the room, his hair not a single bit neater than it had been when he stepped into the bathroom. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just...we've never, y'know. I've never stayed. After."

Tsukishima doesn't look up from his laptop, now propped on the bed in front of his crossed legs. "Well, I've never kicked you out. You leave on your own."

"You kind of kicked me out the first time." Kuroo points out, lingering a few steps before the edge of the bed.

"I guess so. I don't care if you stay after."

"Isn't that...dangerous?"

"Why?" Tsukishima finally looks up, the light from the bedside lamp making his eyes flash gold. His lips curl into a condescending smirk. "Are you going to fall in love with me?"

"Aren't you scared I'm going to?" Kuroo asks simply, thinking about how he's never allowed any of his past partners to stay, never ordered any of them room service and how a few of them still managed to make things out to be more than they were. It's how he ended up with a restraining order and a police report under his belt.

Tsukishima's smirk wilts and the purse of his lips might pass for a pout as he shrugs, seemingly bored by the way Kuroo was unperturbed by his taunt. "No. I know you won't fall in love with me."

"How do you know that?"

"You're already in love with someone else. The guy dancing with Sugawara-san back at the party."

Suddenly, the blood in Kuroo's veins run cold. His skin prickles and there's something sharp in his throat as he manages a weak, "how...?"

"The look on your face while you watched them was quite pitiful. It's a terrible idea though, having Sugawara-san as your rival in love-"

Kuroo's fist is through the drywall before he realizes it. For a blinding moment all Kuroo knows is the blood rushing in his ears, the heavy beat of his heart and the tightening of his throat; and then the rest of his senses come back one by one, the registering of Tsukishima's eyes on his, the sharp pain in his hand, the heavy breaths escaping his body.

"...Well I guess that's going on my card, since the room is under my name." Tsukishima finally says, not batting an eye. "For god's sake, Kuroo-san. Sit down before you pass out."

Shakily, Kuroo takes his fist from the mess of drywall and watches as white dust follows his hand out in puffs of powder. "Shit," he breathes, taking a seat on the chair beside him. "Shit. I'm sorry. I'll pay for the damages."

"Of course you will." With a sigh, Tsukishima stands and walks over to Kuroo, putting his hand out with a raise of his brows. Confused, Kuroo stares back, unsure of what Tsukishima wants with his gesture. He goes with the only answer he can come up with at that time and removes his wallet from his jacket pocket, placing it in Tsukishima's upturned palm; there are a few beats of suffocating tension in the air before Tsukishima makes a sound of reproach, tosses the wallet onto the bed behind him and instead takes Kuroo's injured hand in his own. His eyes are steady as he examines the angry red colouring marring Kuroo's shaking knuckles, bends Kuroo's fingers, presses his thumbs into the top of Kuroo's palms.

Kuroo watches in slight bewilderment and realizes that Tsukishima is wearing the softest expression he's ever seen him with. What they do is not soft, after all, has never been the type of situation where one would show any sense of softness. In this light, with that look on his face, Kuroo realizes for the first time that Tsukishima is not as sharp around the corners as he first thought. "Sugawara's not my rival," Kuroo starts suddenly, unsure of why he would be saying this now, after all this time of hiding everything from every one. But it comes out, sliding out through the gaps between his plated armour. "Daichi's finally happy. I would never ruin that."

Tsukishima says nothing, but his fingers tighten almost unnoticeably around Kuroo's hand for the briefest of moments before letting go.

\---

"Text me the total for the charges and I'll transfer you the money." Kuroo says, chewing on his bottom lip. Dinner afterwards was unbearably awkward, Tsukishima had spent the majority of the time saying exactly nothing and Kuroo spent it saying way too much, babbling away in a one-sided conversation. Afterwards, they headed down to the reception where Tsukishima paid for the damages and checked out. Standing outside in front of the hotel entrance, Kuroo shuffles from foot to foot nervously; he'd never had an outburst like that before, not in front of someone else, not even in front of Daichi. It was so uncharacteristic of him, Kuroo Tetsurou who always had control over his demeanor, never let down his guard, could always slide an easy smile onto his face. He wasn't sure what broke his calm this time around and it unnerved him, evidence that things were beginning to slip out of place.

"You can stop with the guilty face." Tsukishima says suddenly, hoisting his bag higher over his shoulder. He isn't even facing Kuroo as he says, "I don't fuck you for your good temper. So I really couldn't care less about your sudden need to punch walls."

Kuroo's eyes widen in surprise and he lets out a bemused huff of disbelief. Somehow, Tsukishima manages to relieve Kuroo's anxieties in the most insensitive of ways, though Kuroo should know better than to expect sensitivity, anyway. Tsukishima is certainly many things, but sensitive is not one of them and Kuroo likes that, likes how Tsukishima has the tendency to surprise him. He curls his mouth into a teasing smirk and speaks with a lilt in his voice. "Ohohoho? So what _do_ you fuck me for, Tsukishima-kun?"

"At this point, I'm really not sure considering how long you lasted this time around. Letting your performance slip a little, don't you think Kuroo-san?"

"...you little brat-"

"Tsukki?"  
  
Tsukishima freezes in front of him, and Kuroo catches the way his expression changes, the way realization settles into his eyes and he whips around to face the third voice. Kuroo follows his gaze to a freckled face, dark hair tied back into a half-ponytail and a long body clad in casual t-shirt and ripped jeans. Kuroo recognizes the look on Tsukishima's face. It's a look that he knows well, one that he wears himself whenever he thinks Daichi isn't looking.

Longing. Desire. _Infatuation_.

But then the look is gone and Tsukishima returns to his usual expression of neutrality. His voice is steady as he speaks. "Yamaguchi. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, we just finished dinner at that ramen shop down the street," Yamaguchi says, gesturing to the restaurant with his thumb. It's only then that Kuroo notices the small figure standing just behind Yamaguchi, a tiny blonde girl who pales when she sees Kuroo staring at her and let's out a squeak. She pokes her head out from behind Yamaguchi, fingers still clutching the hem of his t-shirt.

"H-hello, Tsukishima-kun." She stutters, eyes never leaving Kuroo's face.

"Yachi-san." There's a hardness in Tsukishima's eyes now, his mouth is pressed into a solid line and Kuroo watches his fingers tighten around the strap of his bag until his knuckles turn white. Kuroo knows this look as well; if someone had presented him with a mirror as he watched Daichi dancing that night, Kuroo is sure that it's the look he would have seen staring back at him. The look of silent suffering. The look that means you feel your heart slowly being torn in two, the look that means your throat is closing in on you and you can't _breathe_. Kuroo knows this feeling so well that tension starts to build in his jaw.

He isn't about to watch Tsukishima suffocate.

"Kei."

Kuroo slides his fingers around Tsukishima's waist, pulls him until they're pressed together, side by side. Tsukishima finches, eyes wide with panic. "Wha-"

"We're going to be late for our reservation." Kuroo says coolly, sliding his eyes over to where the other pair stand, surprise etched on their faces. "Sorry, but we've got to get goin'."

"O-oh, no problem!" Yamaguchi manages, brows still raised. "Sorry to keep you, Tsukki. I'll just text you later, then."

With that Kuroo tugs a shell shocked Tsukishima away with a firm grip, and it isn't until they've rounded the corner that Tsukishima yanks himself out of his grasp. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He snaps, glaring at Kuroo indignantly.

"If my face back at the party was anything like the look you had just now, then you're right." Kuroo says with a shrug. "I really must have looked quite pitiful."

Tsukishima bristles, mouth open as if he has something to say, but instead he closes it and bites his lip in frustration. Kuroo waits, watches the way shame and self-hatred creeps onto Tsukishima's face like a shadow. Moments pass like that, two men standing in the middle of the sidewalk, tension looming in the air thick enough to cut into. Finally, Tsukishima sighs, turns on his heel to walk away. He hesitates in his steps and Kuroo barely catches the words coming from his lips before he walks off and disappears into the crowd of people.

It sounded almost like  _Thank you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and thank you for every kudos, every bookmark, and especially every wonderful comment. This is my first multi-chapter fic and I know it's a little messy, but I hope you're all enjoying it so far. *blows kisses*


	9. falling out of love is hard

The next time Kuroo meets Tsukishima, it's at his apartment. He had been the one to suggest that they meet at his apartment instead of a hotel because he's fairly sure that a part-time DJ can't possibly afford booking such high class rooms every time they want to fuck.

(Which, granted, is very, very often.)

He brings it up warily; Kuroo is still unsure of what is considered safe and what is considered crossing the boundaries of their strange not-friends with benefits relationship. But he trusts Tsukishima- maybe it was the softness in his eyes as he held Kuroo's shaking hand in his own, maybe it was the pained look on his face as he laid eyes on the man he loved. Maybe it was the whispered thank you that Kuroo still isn't sure he actually heard. He may even go so far as to say that he _likes_ Tsukishima. How he goes from cold and aloof to childish in a single moment, how his comebacks are always quick and sharp as knives.

Tsukishima doesn't respond to his text. Kuroo starts to think that he scared him off with his suggestion, but later that evening the doorbell rings and when he looks through the peephole it's Tsukishima standing there, looking slightly unnerved and fidgety.

"Hey, Tsukishima-kun," Kuroo greets as he opens the door, "I was starting to think I had been stood up."

Tsukishima hesitates before stepping into Kuroo's apartment, removes his shoes neatly and sets them to the side of the entrance. There's a change in the atmosphere between them. Kuroo can sense it and it almost makes him uncomfortable, except he thinks he can tell what the change is; that somewhere along the line they went from simple strangers who had sex with each other to something closer. Not friends, definitely not yet, but no longer unattached. When he shakes himself out of his thoughts, he notices that Tsukishima is looking pointedly around his apartment, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"What is it?" Kuroo asks, sliding his hands in his pockets.

Tsukishima shrugs and walks into the living room. Brushes his fingers along the armrest of Kuroo's couch. "Nothing."

Under the weight of Kuroo's stare, his cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink. "I just- I was thinking that it's not what I imagined."

"What were you envisioning?" Kuroo laughs, intrigued. He wanders into the kitchenette, grabs two mugs without thinking and presses the button on his electric kettle. "Coffee?"

There's no response, to which Kuroo takes as a yes, and he spoons some instant coffee granules into each mug, pours the boiling water in, stirs it all together with a small spoon. When he walks back out, steaming cups in each hand, he stops just short of the living room. Tsukishima is standing in front of his DVD shelf, staring at a case in his hands.

His eyes are sparkling.

Kuroo tip toes over, stands just behind Tsukishima and peeks over his shoulder.

"Jurassic World?"

Tsukishima jumps, and this time his cheeks are scarlet red as he fumbles with the DVD, attempting to shove it back onto the shelf without much success. Kuroo's grin is sly as he pushes a mug into Tsukishima's hands and plucks the DVD from its haphazard spot.

"We can watch it if you want, y'know."

"No." Tsukishima mumbles, turning around in attempt to hide his burning face. "Why would we do that? I came here for sex, not to watch a movie with you."

"Ouch, Tsukishima-kun." Kuroo says, feigning a wince as he places a hand against his heart. "Well _I_ don't feel like fucking just yet, so I'm gonna watch this movie. You can do whatever you'd like."

Wordlessly, he places the disc into the DVD player and flops onto the couch, cradling his mug of coffee in both hands. As the opening scene starts, he watches Tsukishima stand off to the side fidgeting awkwardly, sneaking glances at the screen when he thinks Kuroo isn't looking. Then, after a few more seconds, he takes tentative steps towards the couch and sits gingerly on the edge of the seat, albeit with an annoyed frown on his face.

Kuroo hides his smile in his mug.

When the first dinosaurs show up on screen Tsukishima's lips curl into a small smile, the edges of his mouth quivering as if he was trying to force them back down.

Kuroo thinks of the word _beautiful_.

They sit like that, on complete opposite ends of the couch, distance between them much larger than it usually is; opposite ends of the couch in contrast to bare skin pressed together, moving together, and Kuroo briefly considers just how ironic it is that this is somehow the closest they've ever been.

\---

They do end up fucking after the movie, of course; Tsukishima rides Kuroo into the mattress until Kuroo loses his breath, despite being the one doing the lesser amount of work. He covers Kuroo's neck and shoulders in bite marks, his back in long, red scratches, his torso with dark bruises sucked into his skin. Kuroo looks like a goddamned disaster, really, and he understands then that Tsukishima is an awfully sore loser who didn't appreciate being hustled as he had earlier.

For some reason, it makes Kuroo grin in earnest. He watches as Tsukishima traces each mark with a light fingertip, seemingly proud of the work he's done.

After Tsukishima leaves, Kuroo steps into the shower and it's not even 10 minutes later that he hears the doorbell ring. He hops out, grabs a towel and wraps it hastily around his waist before heading towards the door.

"Did you forget something?" He calls out, hand wrapping around the doorknob. But when he pulls the door open, it's not Tsukishima standing there.

It's Daichi.

"Kuroo." Daichi says, surprised, as if he hadn't expected Kuroo to actually be there despite it being his apartment. Which isn't exactly unsupported, really, because Kuroo probably wouldn't have opened his door had he known it was Daichi standing there.

But as much as he didn't want to see Daichi, he really, _really_ did; seeing him now, standing there in front of Kuroo's door, still makes Kuroo's chest constrict, his throat tighten. Just how long had he spent loving this man? How much longer will he spend loving someone who will never love him back in the same way? It's this feeling, this feeling of want and longing that Kuroo is always trying to drown out the best way he knows how.

"Why are you here?" Kuroo asks, and the responsive hurt is so evident on Daichi's face that Kuroo's breath catches in his lungs and he draws his lips into a grimace.

"Why am I _here_?" Daichi repeats, words sharp and eyebrows raised in anger. He places a broad palm flat on the door, shoves it open so hard that Kuroo has to step backwards. Daichi stalks inside and slams the door shut behind him, voice raised and eyes ablaze. "Why do you think I'm here? Maybe it's because you pull the same stupid shit over and _over_ after giving me your word every time that it's the _last time_. Maybe it's because I always need to come and hunt you down every single god damned time you decide to throw me aside, because if I don't you always end up in the hospital or at a police station!"

Daichi's hands are clenched into fists at his sides, and it isn't until he's finished yelling that he seems to really _see_ Kuroo, torso bare save for the red-purple markings that cover him all over. "Jesus, Kuroo." Daichi breathes, pinching his eyes shut and turning his face the other way. "What the hell have you been doing?"

Kuroo looks down at the markings that he had felt such endearment towards just minutes before. Under Daichi's scrutiny, they start to morph into something else that is seemingly supposed to warrant shame. He doesn't want to feel this way, doesn't like the way Daichi changes Tsukishima's presence on his skin into something disgusting. Kuroo turns, makes his way into his room knowing that Daichi won't follow. He changes quickly, throws on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, tries to calm the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach before walking back into his living room.

"You should leave." Kuroo says, trying to focus his eyes anywhere else aside from Daichi's face.

"I'm not leaving." Daichi crosses his arms across his chest, takes a step towards Kuroo. "I'm not letting you do this again."

"Do _what_ , exactly?" The awful feeling is starting to fan into smoke, setting fire to Kuroo's insides as he speaks. "What, exactly, is it that you need to stop so badly?"

" _I don't know_!" Daichi cries, coming forward to grab hold of Kuroo's arms. The skin under Daichi's touch ignites into embers and there's a burning at the back of Kuroo's eyes as he blinks. "I don't know, Kuroo. Tell me. Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what you're running from. Let me help."

Every inch of Kuroo's being wants to scream, because it's exactly this that he's been running from. This man in front of him, his best friend, the person he loves so much that it destroys him, has been eating at him inside for so many years that it's all he can do to run from it. In this situation, with Daichi's hands hot on his skin standing so close to him, begging him for the truth, Kuroo almost crumbles.

He almost falls to his knees, almost cries out _I love you, I love you, I love you_ like he's wanted to do ever since he realized that dark amber has somehow become his favorite colour and how Daichi's smile makes him feel like he's holding the entire world in his hands.

But he can't crumble now. Not after so many years, not after Daichi is finally, finally happy. Because Kuroo wants that, he does, he wants Daichi to fall asleep with his love in his arms, wants Daichi to be insanely, unbelievably happy over someone just like Kuroo once used to feel.

Even if the person that does that isn't Kuroo himself.

So he looks down at Daichi, steels himself and says, "I don't need your help. I need you to go."

Daichi opens his mouth to object, and Kuroo raises his hands and clutches at Daichi's arms in the same way, digs his fingertips into Daichi's skin. " _Please_ ," he whispers, desperation lining his words. "Please, Daichi."

He breathes the name like a prayer, and with it Daichi's face crumples in disappointment. With a sigh, he steps back from Kuroo, brings his hand up to run it nervously through his short hair. "I don't understand, Kuroo. Help me understand."

"I just-" Kuroo's words catch in his throat and he breaks off, biting his bottom lip hard.

"If it's me," Daichi says suddenly, drawing his mouth into a hard line, "if it's me, you can tell me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Kuroo whispers, shutting his eyes.

"I don't know where we stand anymore. Are we even friends?"

"Yes." Kuroo says weakly. "You're my best friend. You know that."

"I don't, because for some reason you keep throwing me aside!" Daichi yells. "You leave when you want, reappear when you want. You just do whatever _you_ want, and I can't watch anymore as you get yourself hurt again. If I'm your best friend, then help me understand why you keep leaving whenever the hell you want to, like I don't matter."

It's impossible to explain that Daichi's got it all wrong, that Kuroo leaves again and again because Daichi matters _too fucking much_ , that sometimes Daichi's very existence makes Kuroo feel like he's burning up from the inside out. It's happening now, and Kuroo tries to drown it all out, tries to bring himself to a place where he doesn't feel like his heart is being incinerated into ashes. To a place where things feel almost okay, even though the man he loves so desperately will never look at him the same way.

He thinks of dinosaurs and flashing gold.

Kuroo breathes, keeping that place in his mind to steady him. He thinks about the lingering taste of coffee on Tsukishima's lips, thinks about how ridiculously cute it is that his favourite food is strawberry shortcake, thinks about how cold Tsukishima's hands were as he cradled Kuroo's bruised fingers like it was something to be protected.

When he opens his eyes, Daichi is standing in front of him and Kuroo feels just a little bit like things might end up okay.

"I'm sorry." Kuroo says, and he means it, because he's always tried to make things okay for both himself and for Daichi, always tried the best way he knew how. But somehow it always ends up like this, with him running as far away as possible and Daichi following after him, picking up the pieces that he leaves behind. Except this time, he's stumbled upon someone who makes Kuroo feel like there aren't any pieces to be picked up, like he's whole just the way he is, accepted him even if he's a little fragile and a little bit hurt.

"You're right. I've always been running from something." Kuroo begins, because for some reason, Kuroo feels like he can get his thoughts across without falling apart if he does it now, with Tsukishima's markings scattered across his skin like a protective charm.

Daichi looks at him, face etched with concern, with the desire to understand. His eyes, Kuroo's favourite shade of amber, stare straight into Kuroo's own and Kuroo is once again reminded of how much he loves this man in front of him. How long he's loved him for. How dearly he loves him.

And Kuroo knows that Daichi loves him back.

Maybe not in the same way, but Daichi has never once given up on Kuroo, not even for a second, never hesitated to run right after him whenever Kuroo tried to leave time and time again.

And it's such a privilege to be loved so much by someone as good and kind and brave and fucking _beautiful_ as Daichi. Yet Kuroo has always been running from that love, somehow too overwhelming and yet not enough all at once.

"I've been trying to fix things the only way I knew how to. And I know that it feels like I'm always running away from you, but in reality, everything I do is so that I can always end up running _back_ to you. You're home base. You're always going to be home, Daichi."

Kuroo clenches his hands into fists to stop the shaking. He didn't explain it well, didn't really explain anything, actually. But it's the best he can do with the point he's at right now, and he hopes that Daichi understands, hopes that he somehow got his thoughts across.

"...you've said that once before," Daichi finally says, voice soft. When Kuroo looks up, there's a sad smile on Daichi's face. "Years ago, back in high school."

Kuroo remembers. The smell of antiseptic. Daichi's face, rounder and younger, eyes that were red-rimmed yet forgiving. A dull pain in his side. Bandages covering his body that itched all over. He manages a small smile, lacking his usual energy, but he knows that Daichi understands.

Daichi turns, heads towards the door. He slides his shoes on but hesitates with his hand on the doorknob.

"I'll be here when you're ready." Daichi says, without turning. "Don't take too long, stupid Kuroo."

And then he's gone.

\---

"Asahiiii," Koushi calls, stepping through the entrance to his apartment. He toes his shoes off, sets them neatly on the shoe stand. When no reply comes, Koushi stares down the hallway in confusion, heading down the hallway and peering into each room in search for his friend. Poking his head into the office, he sees Asahi standing with his back towards the door, tall frame looming over the desk.

"Asahi, there you are." Koushi smiles, walking towards him. "I got worried when I didn't get a reply."

Again, Asahi doesn't say anything, and Koushi frowns this time, stops behind Asahi to give him a firm smack on the back. "Hey! Stop ignoring me!"

Asahi finally turns. The look on his face makes Koushi take a step back, brows furrowing in concern.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Koushi asks softly, and his frown grows as Asahi's only response to his question is to pick up a magazine from the desk and hand it over to Koushi.

His heart stops in his chest as he looks down at the double page spread, a huge picture of Koushi and Daichi at the night club party. Koushi is on the tips of his toes, his arms are wrapped firm around Daichi's neck and Daichi's got a hand pressed against the small of Koushi's back.

Their lips are unmistakably, undeniably pressed together.

"Shit." Koushi whispers. While he's been out, publicly, for a few years, he's never been caught in a scandal before, and innocent, angelic, internationally famous Sugawara Koushi caught making out behind a night club is certainly the definition of scandalous. "We've got to find Daichi, we have to warn him-"

"I'll get Nishinoya and Tanaka to pick him up." Asahi says weakly, reaching for his phone. He makes a quick call, doesn't explain the situation, only tells them to pick Daichi up and bring him around through the back door of the apartment building. Koushi is still staring at the article, the giant block letters splayed across both pages make the colour drain from his face.  
  
  
 ** _SUGAWARA KOUSHI CAUGHT IN PASSIONATE LIP-LOCK WITH MYSTERY MAN_**

  
"It's all my fault." Koushi whispers, fingers shaking. "I should have known better, I let my guard down, I was careless-"

Asahi sighs, covers Koushi's hand with his own and squeezes gently. "Regretting it doesn't make a difference now, Koushi. All we can do is damage control. You'll have to lay low for awhile, we'll call Datekou's agency and get a few more guards to get you through the paparazzi when you have to go to shoots."

"And Daichi?" Koushi looks up, eyes wide with concern. He doesn't like the face Asahi makes in response, pressing his lips into a hard line, a look of admitted defeat.

"...he's about to realize that his life is going to be a lot different in the morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize because it may seem like this story is deviating a lot from DaiSuga, but there was a lot that needed to happen before DaiSuga's storyline could proceed. I'm quite happy with how the bulk of this chapter turned out, so I hope you enjoy and leave a comment letting me know what you thought! 
> 
> You can also send me a message on my [tumblr](http://amaanogawa.tumblr.com), if you'd like. 8^)


	10. when it's just too heavy to hold

A low whistle escapes Oikawa's lips as he holds the magazine in his hands.

"Shit, Kou-chan." He whispers with a grimace, fingers drumming the kitchen counter where he sat. Iwaizumi pads into the room, stifling a yawn behind his open palm and leans down to plant a light kiss on top of Oikawa's head before ambling towards the coffee maker. "Morning, Iwa-chan. There's trouble brewing."

"What kind of trouble?" Iwaizumi reaches from behind Oikawa to set a mug of coffee down on the table, perches his chin on Oikawa's fluffy locks as he narrows his eyes at the article. "Fuck, those damn paparazzi don't know when to quit. Did you know Sugawara was seeing someone?"

"Look closer, Iwa-chan. You know who it is."

Iwaizumi squints at the blown up picture, but the only distinguishable feature of the 'mystery man' was a head of short, dark hair. He huffs, digs his fingers into Oikawa's side to elicit an undignified squeal. "There's no way to tell from this shitty picture, Shittykawa. Stop playing smart."

"From our glory days, captain of Karasuno himself!" Oikawa reaches behind him to bat Iwaizumi on the ass, lower lip sticking out in a pout. "Don't get physical whenever things don't go your way, Iwa-chan. It's unsightly."

"Sawamura?" Iwaizumi says, eyes widening. "How the hell did Sawamura end up with Sugawara?"

"The heck if I know." Oikawa tosses the magazine onto the counter with a roll of his eyes. "He's just living a blessed life, I suppose."

"Wait- is this why you got so dejected at the party? Because you saw Sawamura?"

"I-" A pause. "Well-" A nervous swallow. "I-It's not like it was because of him, really-"

Iwaizumi sighs, leans down to nuzzle into the crook of Oikawa's neck. "You're insufferable, you know that? What are you doing getting all depressed because of a match from back in _high school_ , anyway?"

"Mean, Iwa-chan! What do you mean insufferable?"

Oikawa flinches as a knuckle is tapped lightly on his forehead before Iwaizumi passes by him, opening the fridge and collecting a few ingredients for breakfast. He watches as he grabs a frying pan, turns on the stove, cracks a few eggs to fry with deft hands and nimble movements. Oikawa will never get used to this kind of soft domesticity; even the sight of Iwaizumi's sleeping face in the morning still leaves him speechless with wonder sometimes. It's so strange, he thinks, how one person can become someone's entire world like this. And it's true, so much more so in regards to the two of them. Oikawa has never known a world without Iwaizumi in it- and in the blink of an eye, it has somehow been over two decades that Iwaizumi has been so intricately woven in his life. It's almost unbelievable how the grown man standing in front of the stove right now, with his broad shoulders and ever-sturdy back, is the same bright eyed, snot nosed kid chasing after stag beetles, bug-catching net in tow.

"What are you spacing out for?"  
  
Iwaizumi sets a plate down in front of Oikawa, two eggs over easy, two slices of whole wheat toast, roasted cherry tomatoes and button mushrooms dressed with olive oil and herbs, alongside a bowl of grapefruit slices. Oikawa squawks, looking up with wide eyes. "Iwa-chan! This is way too much food, I'm going to get fat!"

"You've been losing weight." Iwaizumi says, placing his own plate down (eggs and toast, tomatoes and mushrooms replaced with bacon and potatoes, sans grapefruit) and takes a seat across from Oikawa. He looks up with a glare sharp enough to send shivers down Oikawa's spine. "Eat all of it. If your weight drops anymore I swear, I'll stuff food down your throat until you burst."

Oikawa's eyes soften, a smile forming on his lips. "You were worried about me? How sweet."

"See how sweet I am if I ever catch you skipping a meal again." Iwaizumi grumbles. He stuffs a triangle of toast into his mouth, blush forming high on his cheeks. "Shut the hell up and eat, stupid. You've got an interview in two hours."

"Yes, yes."

\---

It was just past 8 in the morning. Daichi sits complacently in the front seat of a black SUV with tinted windows, Nishinoya beside him in the driver's seat.

They have been stuck in traffic for an hour.

The ride has been, for the most part, very comfortable. Daichi had been worried because Nishinoya seemed to be the type to be not-so-great at driving; he had expected squealing tires and overly dangerous speeds because, well, if there was anyone who looked like they'd be an aggressive driver, Nishinoya's bleach blonde tuft and wild eyes definitely fit the part. But he was surprised to find that Nishinoya was an exceptionally graceful chauffeur, not to mention a great conversationalist, and any sort of awkwardness that might have hung in the air dissipated immediately.

"You know, I knew I had a good feeling about you when I first saw you, Daichi-san!" Nishinoya chirps. The car ambles along slowly, bright red brake lights surrounding them in every direction. "It's been great seeing Koushi-san so happy lately."

"A good feeling? Really?" Daichi chuckles, recalling the intimidating stare Nishinoya and Tanaka had given him the night they first met. "I'm glad to hear that Suga's been happy, but I'm sure it doesn't have much to do with me. I haven't done much."

"Oh no, it definitely does. Koushi-san was struggling pretty badly for awhile before he met you, you know."

"Ah, I guess he did tell me a little about that. Being a celebrity must be hard on him."

"Mm," Nishinoya hums in agreement. "His work schedule is packed, his social life is limited, his routine is strict, and Koushi-san is the type to overwork himself in the first place."  
  
"Well, it's great that he has you, Asahi and Tanaka, then. He's told me a lot about you three." Daichi smiles softly. "I wouldn't chalk it all up to my doing. He needs you more than you think he does."

Nishinoya's returning smile is sad, somehow. "You think? I'm probably just putting extra stress on him, really."

"Why would you say that?"

"I told Asahi-san that I love him and he rejected me, so the atmosphere is really, really shitty right now. I can't imagine it'd be doing Koushi-san any good."

He says it without hesitation, says it so naturally that Daichi almost just nods and hums sympathetically. But then the words click in Daichi's mind and he turns towards Nishinoya, eyes wide with surprise.

"Uh," Daichi says, eloquently.

"And y'know, I've loved him for 9 years already, so I don't know why I suddenly came to the decision to tell him now, after so long." Nishinoya continues unabashed. "I just thought, like, why not? It's not even that I expected Asahi-san to love me back. If anything I didn't expect him to, actually. Not that it didn't hurt when he rejected me- it did, it hurt like a bitch. But most importantly I just never thought that he'd react like this, y'know? I thought that I could put it out there, and that the relationship between me and Asahi-san could stay the same, 'cause we've known each other for so long. But it's like he's just shut down, completely, and he wears this super defeated look on his face, like he's in pain, and then I'm wondering if it's really that horrible to be loved by me, and shit! This all sucks. This all sucks really, really bad."

It comes like a waterfall, the words flying out of Nishinoya's mouth with such force that it leaves Daichi speechless. He's so taken aback to have someone he has never spoken to prior to this day pour their heart out to him like this that he can only open his mouth a little dumbfounded.

"Uhm," Daichi starts, clears his throat, tries again. "That's awful, Nishinoya."

_Oh, real smooth, Daichi._

Nishinoya, bless his heart, continues on like Daichi had actually given a reply of substance instead of the pathetic attempt he dished out.

"It is. More so than being rejected, it's being treated like I'm a completely different person that sucks the most. Because I'm not. I've always been me! And then there's the stress that this is putting on Koushi-san. This wasn't my intention, not at all." Nishinoya sighs, his jaw set rigidly. "I just thought that maybe I could stop hiding my feelings. It was so tiring keeping it all in...but maybe I was just being selfish. Look at all the harm I've done."

Daichi frowns, a painful feeling pooling in his chest at the sight of Nishinoya looking so defeated in front of him. "I don't think it was selfish of you at all, to be honest. It's not like you could have predicted that Asahi would react in such a way. I mean...I don't know Asahi, really, but judging by what Suga has told me, it seems weird that he's being so harsh. It sounded like he really cares about you, Nishinoya, so maybe there's something else going on?"

"Something else going on?" Nishinoya echoes, eyes curious.

"Yea. If it's really so out of character for him to be acting this way, maybe it's not just because of your feelings, but there's another conflict there you know? An internal conflict, maybe. It's hard to tell what people are thinking sometimes."

"Well...Asahi-san is the type to worry about some stupid shit, definitely." Nishinoya furrows his brows together, considering. "Maybe I can try talking to him again?"

"Maybe you should." Daichi smiles. "You shouldn't feel ashamed of having courage, Nishinoya. I think it's very admirable."

Nishinoya grins, wide and toothy. "I knew I had a good feeling about you, Daichi-san. You're awesome!"

The rest of the drive is amicable and light hearted, the vehicle bumbling through lanes of traffic slowly but surely, before they finally pull into the underground parking lot of Suga's condo. Even the parking lot is luxurious, with huge parking spaces and personalized garages; five more vehicles similar to the one Nishinoya had picked Daichi up in were parked side by side, all sleek and shining under the sparkling garage lights.

"This way, Daichi-san!" Nishinoya chirps again, bouncing towards a set of double doors. They ride an elevator up to the penthouse floor, and when the doors slide open, Daichi doesn't think he's ever seen a hallway so clean and glistening white. Nishinoya pulls out a card key and swipes, opening the door to a gigantic living room, large windows showing the immaculate city layout. Suga's condo is stylishly decorated with a muted colour scheme; there's a large white couch in front of a widescreen wall-mounted TV, a glass coffee table with some magazines stacked on top, and a giant print of Suga staring down with a sultry expression is hung up on the wall. Daichi can't take his eyes off of it.

"Daichi!"

Before he can react, Suga is crashing into him, his arms thrown around Daichi's neck.

"Woah!" Daichi wraps his arms around Suga's waist and laughs, hugging him back affectionately. "Give a guy some warning will ya?"

When Suga pulls back, the look on his face is one of concern. Daichi frowns, smooths a hand down the side of Suga's head, fingertips combing through his silverish tufts of hair. "What's wrong?"

"This." A voice comes from the room where Suga had burst out of. Asahi steps out with what looks like a magazine in hand, brows furrowed. "This is what's wrong."

Daichi reaches out a hand to take the magazine that Asahi is offering to him, and his eyes narrow when he realizes what it is. "This...is us. At the party."

"Yes." Asahi says with a sigh. "Yes, it is the two of you. And now it's splashed across every entertainment magazine in the country."

Daichi looks from Asahi's face to Suga's a little dumbfoundedly. "I'm sorry, I don't know what this means. What are the consequences of this? Did I endanger Suga's career?"

Asahi presses his lips into a hard line, and Daichi thinks he can detect sympathy in his expression. "Well, it's going to be tough on our end for awhile, but no celebrity is without their fair share of media attention. We'll just add on some extra security and it'll simmer down eventually."

Daichi breathes a sigh of relief, reaches over to take hold of Suga's hand. "Thank god," he says, smiling, but the look on Suga's face hasn't changed- he chews on his bottom lip worriedly as he stares at Daichi.

"Things will be tough on our end for awhile," Asahi repeats, expression deadly serious, "but your life is about to get difficult too, Sawamura-san."

"What do you mean?" Daichi frowns, confusion lining his face. He can't help but feel helplessly out of his element as he stands there, in Suga's posh living room. He knows nothing about this world, after all, knows nothing about sparkling white condo buildings or people who could afford to own six Benz's.

"You're an ordinary citizen who was caught with a celebrity behind a night club. The paparazzi, not to mention everyone who read the article, are going to be on the hunt for you. They're going to try to find out who you are, and when they do, you're going to be the center of media attention. It's going to disrupt your life. You won't be able to continue with your normal routines, it might even extend to your family and friends."

Daichi hadn't even considered the amount of harm that would come to him as a result of this. It's ridiculous, after all, to think that he would be the target of attention. He was just Daichi- ordinary, plain jane Daichi, just the co-owner of a small sports equipment company. To think that anyone would care about his life was a ridiculous notion.

"Okay," he says, squaring his shoulders. "So what should I do?"

Asahi cocks his head, folds his arms across his chest. "Well, you're safe as long as they don't figure out your identity. You and Koushi will have to keep a low profile for awhile. If you'd like to spend time together, it'll have to be indoors. It'd be preferable if you came here instead of Koushi going to your apartment- the entry through the garage is made to be discreet."

"Roger." Daichi smiles, tugs on Suga's hand. "Hey, lighten up. Things are okay for now, and if they find me we'll deal with that when it happens."

Suga's face drops and he leans forward into Daichi's arms. "I'm sorry, Daichi. I didn't mean for you to be put in this kind of situation."

"Of course not. It's not your fault."

Asahi clears his throat. "Sawamura-san, I'll text you Tanaka and Nishinoya's cellphone numbers so please have them saved, in case anything happens."

"Daichi is fine, you know?" Daichi grins, reaching over to pat Asahi on the shoulder. "Sorry, seems like I caused some trouble for you."

"It's my job." Asahi returns the smile, albeit a bit hesitantly. "Let's do our best to get past this in one piece."

Daichi nods, turns to give Suga a reassuring smile.

Everything's going to be alright.

\---

Two weeks pass since Kuroo last sees Daichi. In those two weeks, he sees Tsukishima nearly everyday, and he wants to laugh whenever he looks at Tsukishima's perpetually grumpy face because the word he thinks of is _healing_. How contradictory, Kuroo thinks, that such a brusque person could be associated with such a word.

But Tsukishima's presence in his life _is_ healing. He is a constant reminder that there are other people in this world who can make Kuroo _feel_ , and the emotion that blooms in his chest is definitely something akin to salvation when Kuroo looks up one day to see Tsukishima curled up on his couch, wearing his shirt, wrapped in his blanket, watching a documentary on dinosaurs on his TV.

Two weeks after he last sees Daichi, the doorbell rings around evening and there's Tsukishima standing on the other side of the peephole. Kuroo unlocks the door, opens it with a smile.

"Hey, Tsukishima-kun. I thought you said you'd be busy to- _mmpf_!?"

Tsukishima surges forward in the middle of Kuroo's sentence, crushes their lips together so hard that there's the sharp clack of teeth against lip and Kuroo tastes blood. He stumbles backwards, Tsukishima in his arms, only just having the sense to swing the door shut as he's pushed against the hallway wall.

"Tsuki- what are you-" Kuroo manages, as Tsukishima presses in closer, licking into Kuroo's mouth.

"Shut up." Tsukishima whispers against Kuroo's lips before pressing them together again. His fingers scrabble against Kuroo's belt, and Kuroo doesn't know what this is about, but though Tsukishima is rarely this desperate it's not strange for him to want sex, all things considered. He's kissing back and it takes awhile before he realizes that Tsukishima is having a lot of difficulty with the button of Kuroo's jeans, so he reaches down to help, one hand grasping Tsukishima's to pull them away.

It's then that he notices Tsukishima's hands are shaking.

"Wait-" He tries to say, but Tsukishima brushes Kuroo's hands away and claws at his button again, bites down on Kuroo's bottom lip. Kuroo grabs Tsukishima's shoulders, forces him apart at arm's distance and finally gets a proper look at his face.

Kuroo's breath freezes in his lungs. Tsukishima's eyes are wide, bloodshot and watery. His mouth trembling at the corners.

"Tsukishima-"

"He's getting married," Tsukishima whispers, suddenly. "He's getting married and," a bitter laugh escapes from Tsukishima's lips, sharp, crude. "He's getting married and _he asked me to be his best man_."

Kuroo is speechless. It feels like his heart drops into his stomach as Tsukishima starts to laugh loud and incredulously.

"His best man!" Tsukishima says again, words laced with disbelief. "Have you ever heard of something so fucking _pathetic_ -"

" _Kei!_ "

Tsukishima stops, looks at Kuroo wide-eyed. It's then that his brows draw together and tears start to bead at the corner of his eyes. His knees buckle, and it's all Kuroo can do to hook his arms under Tsukishima's as they slide to the floor together.

"He's getting _married_ ," Tsukishima says again, voice cracking. "He's getting married to this tiny thing of a woman and she's small and cheerful and just- I guess it's not surprising, really, that it's not me." Hot tears are rolling down Tsukishima's face as he speaks, arms hanging limp by his side.

Kuroo doesn't say a word, holds Tsukishima's trembling figure as they sit together on the floor. He looks to the ceiling, closes his eyes and he can still feel the exact same anguish that he felt the night of the party, the same anguish that Tsukishima must be feeling now. When the person you love falls in love with someone who is the complete opposite of you, the feeling of crushing grief as you realize just how different you are from what they want. Tsukishima is silent as he cries, hands clutching handfuls of Kuroo's sweater like it's a lifeline.

It's past midnight by the time Tsukishima has gone limp in Kuroo's arms. Kuroo hooks an arm under Tsukishima's legs, wraps the other over his shoulders to support his neck, and braces against the wall to stand up. He carries Tsukishima to his bed, lays him down gently and pulls the covers over his sleeping figure. Kuroo brushes a hand over Tsukishima's blotchy red face, feels the shudder of a breath escape from his lips as he leans down to press a kiss against Tsukishima's forehead.

Life really is cruel, Kuroo thinks. He watches as a tear rolls from Tsukishima's eyes even as he sleeps.

Life really is cruel to have put the two of them together like this.

\---

Two and a half weeks after the magazine article is published, there hasn't been a single incident involving Daichi. There has been some struggle on Suga's side, paparazzi and reporters hounding him at multiple locations, but with a couple extra bodies from Datekou's agency it hasn't really been too much of a problem. Daichi comes to visit after work whenever Suga is free, and it really doesn't feel like there's any sort of situation limiting their interaction at all.

How can it? It's impossible to feel like anything could go wrong when they're slow dancing barefoot in Suga's kitchen, smudges of flour and chocolate on their faces, the sweet smell of cookies baking in the oven surrounding them. It's impossible to feel like anything could get in between them as Daichi is wrapping his strong arms around Suga as they sit in the bathtub together, an overwhelming amount of bubbles covering the surface of the water.

It's just- it's more than Suga could ever have imagined.

Two and a half weeks after the magazine article comes out, Suga sits in the backseat of the car, holding Daichi's hand in his own while Tanaka drives Daichi home. Suga had tagged along because he had some extra time, and Asahi only gave a faltering look of acceptance before shrugging his shoulders. It had been two weeks after all, and the hype over Sugawara Koushi's 'mystery man' has already started to die down. There's always newer celebrity scandals to find, and this kind of small news never stuck around for long.

Tanaka takes a quick look around after he parks, surveys the area and gives a thumbs up to signal that the coast is clear of any paparazzi or reporters. The trio slip out of the car and into the apartment building, get in and out of the elevator without passing anyone. As they walk down the hall towards Daichi's apartment, Suga is swinging his arm happily, his fingers laced together tightly with Daichi's. Daichi is smiling at him, eyes twinkling.

Everything is amazing.

And then Tanaka is holding out an arm, stopping the pair in their tracks. His brows draw together in concern, mouth curled into a frown as he steps quietly towards Daichi's door. It's then that Suga realizes that Daichi's door is ajar- the edge is cracked off and splintering. It looks like someone took a crowbar to it. Tanaka pushes the door open gingerly, peers into the apartment before motioning for Suga and Daichi to stay where they are. He disappears into the apartment for only a minute. When Tanaka reappears, the look on his face is enough for Daichi to release Suga's hand and dash through the door.

Suga follows slowly, heart pounding. When he brushes past Tanaka, steps foot into the entryway of Daichi's apartment, the shock that hits him is like a sledgehammer to his chest.

Daichi's apartment is a scene of disaster. The curtains are ripped off of the rod, picture frames shattered on the floor, volleyball magazines torn to shreds. Suga steps carefully into the living room, looks around in horror before he notices the long gashes in Daichi's leather couch. A sob escapes his lips as he recalls sitting on that same couch, eating take out with Daichi and talking for hours as they fell slowly in love.

He finds Daichi standing in his room, back facing the door, holding the broken pieces of what looks like a volleyball trophy in his hands. But he's not looking at the trophy- he's looking up at the wall behind the headboard of his bed.

Suga's blood runs cold.

**_KNOW YOUR PLACE SHITHEAD!!! STAY AWAY FROM OUR KOUSHI OR ELSE_ **

The words are spray painted onto the wall in bright red. Other words adorned the walls of Daichi's room, and tears start to fall from Suga's eyes at the sight of them.  
  
**_DIE_** ** _YOU BASTARD_  
  
BETTER OFF DEAD!!!  
  
NOT WORTHY  
  
GIVE KOUSHI BACK TO US!!  
**  
"D-Daichi," Suga whispers, gripping onto Daichi's sleeve. Daichi's face is deathly pale as he stands motionless in the midst of the painted walls.

Tanaka comes into the room, hesitates only briefly before speaking. "Koushi-san. We have to leave." He says, firm.

Suga whips around, eyes wide. "What? No!"

"We have to leave, now. The situation will only be worse if someone finds you here."

"I'm not leaving Daichi! How can I-" Suga's voice trembles and he brushes away his tears angrily. "How can I leave?!"

"Suga." Daichi says hoarsely. "Suga, go."

"No, I'm not going, I won't leave you-"

Daichi doesn't look at him. Continues to stare defeatedly up at the writing on the wall. "Tanaka's right. You can't be here."

"Koushi-san." Tanaka wraps a gentle hand around Suga's arm. "We need to leave, for Daichi-san's sake. I've called the police, they're going to be here any moment now."

Suga wants to protest again, but the objection dies in his throat at the gentle look on Tanaka's face. Numbly, he nods. He understands why he has to go, he does, but as he looks over at Daichi's lone figure standing in the middle of his wreck of a room, Suga feels like his heart is being torn in two.

"Daichi," Suga cries, reaching over to grip at his ice cold fingers. "Daichi, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Daichi nods, and then Tanaka is dragging Suga out of the apartment, down the elevators and into the vehicle, and Suga can't hear anything Tanaka is saying over the sound of his own sobbing. He's remembering Daichi's smiling face two and a half weeks ago, a smile of strength and reassurance.

_Everything will be alright._

Two and a half weeks suddenly feels like an entire lifetime ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](Http://amaanogawa.tumblr.com).


	11. only then i am human

_The room is silent, save for the crisp sound of Daichi's knife sliding quick and surely through the apple he holds in his hands. Anyone else might think that the expression he wears on his face is one of neutrality, but Kuroo knows otherwise; the way he's subtly chewing on the inside of his cheek, a bad habit that only emerges when he's nervous, the red lining the rims of his eyes, how his eyelids are swollen, just a little bit as they do when he cries._

_They are 18, young and still a little naive to the world. They are 18 and too young to be on the other side of adultery, really, but Kuroo had paid for it in the form of two broken ribs, numerous stitches, a black eye and a concussion. They are 18 and too young to be turning to sex as an escape from burning suffocation, but sex works and sex is relatively easy to get when you're lucky enough to be graced with good looks and sharp wit that goes beyond your years._

_"Kuroo, you..." Daichi's voice reverberates through the small hospital room, wavering at the edges. "...you're kinda like a stray cat."_

_Kuroo blinks, tilts his head to one side._

_"Stray cats can't be kept in one place. It feels like someday I'll look up and you'll just be gone forever."_

_Daichi finally looks up into Kuroo's eyes. He's smiling, small and wistful, and Kuroo really wants to laugh because all the same, Daichi just doesn't understand, does he?_

_"You're wrong," Kuroo replies. "I have a home."_

_He tries not to notice that Daichi's eyes are cloudy with tears._

_"You're home, Cap'n. You always have been. When you want me back, all you have to do is call me home."_

_Daichi blinks back the tears before the first one can fall, plunks a plate of apple slices down on Kuroo's bed-table and quietly leaves the room._

\---

It'd been 4 days since Yamaguchi's engagement. After that night of crying himself to sleep in Kuroo's arms, Tsukishima woke up the next day just as calm as he always was, like nothing had even happened. But Kuroo didn't miss the way he stayed closer than he usually did; silently wrapping his arms around Kuroo from behind as Kuroo made breakfast, lacing his cold fingers with Kuroo's as they watched the morning news, pressing the lightest and most fleeting kiss they'd ever shared to Kuroo's lips before leaving for home.

Tsukishima wasn't someone he needed to coddle. Their relationship has never been like that, has always been completely blunt and honest right from the beginning. Kuroo knew he didn't need to treat him as if he was some fragile thing, one drop from being shattered, because he wasn't. He was Tsukishima- snarky, foulmouthed, calculating Tsukishima, sullen yet mischievous, and more intelligent than any one person had the right to be.

He wasn't worried. He knew Tsukishima would have the strength to overcome this, and he was more than willing to stay by his side as he did so. In the way that Tsukishima had become his healing, Kuroo hopes that he can become the same existence for Tsukishima in return. They were just two people, weighed down by years upon years of heartbreak, cracked and bruised and crumbling at the edges.

Two people who didn't have to hurt alone. Not anymore.

Kuroo spends the day working at his desk, tapping out manuscripts that he was only half-satisfied with. He spends hours like this, only taking short breaks to pour himself more coffee or to microwave leftover takeout. Writing had started as an outlet that he could throw himself into whenever he got bored, just a hobby that he dabbled in when he had spare time. In the end, it was Daichi that pushed him to submit something for an online writing contest; Kuroo won first place in that contest, submitted a few more works for few more contests and won those ones too. He ended up being offered a contract by a publishing company and the rest just fell into place. Working as a novelist fit his lifestyle because he loved having the freedom to control when and where he worked, although crunch time before deadlines was always miserable; there'd been more than a few times where Daichi pretty much slept on his couch for a week straight, filling and refilling Kuroo's coffee, cooking him food so that he didn't forgo eating completely, offering stern reprimands or gentle hugs depending on what kind of meltdown Kuroo was having that particular day.

Leaning back in his chair, he raises his arms over his head and stretches with a low groan, decisively shutting his laptop for the night. Kuroo stands and walks into the kitchen to reach for his phone, which is always switched to silent and placed out of reach whenever he writes. He's got a few texts, two missed calls, a few email notifications. Both missed calls are from an unknown number and most of the texts are from his editor, except for one.

**From: Cap'n Thighchi  
To: Kuroo Tetsurou**

(18:35) come home, kuroo.

He remembers, of course, the words that he had said all those years ago in that hospital room. Rather, he thought that Daichi was the one that had forgotten because he never once used them, never even mentioned it again until their confrontation over two weeks ago.

But he's using them now, and it's enough for Kuroo to know that something is very, very wrong.

Kuroo isn't thinking. He grabs his jacket, is still in the middle of fitting his foot inside of his shoe as he throws the front door open, ready to start running towards Daichi's apartment. In all his haste, he almost doesn't notice the lone figure curled up against railing opposite his door.

It's Daichi, huddled outside in the crisp fall cold, forehead leaning against his knees that he has pressed up against his chest. He looks smaller than Kuroo has ever known him to be, and the image of Daichi looking so vulnerable, curled up cold and alone outside Kuroo's front door is so wrong that it strikes Kuroo with the urge to cry.

"Shit." Kuroo whispers, quickly crouching down to place his hands on Daichi's shoulders. "Daichi."

Daichi lifts his head, blinks wearily up at Kuroo. "...I didn't know if you'd actually come back," is what he says, tired and beaten down and so, so unlike the Daichi that Kuroo has known and loved for years.

"Of course I would." Kuroo breathes, pulling Daichi to his feet. "I told you I would, you idiot."

That's all it takes for Daichi to quietly fall into Kuroo's arms. He's ice cold to the touch, and Kuroo tries not to think about the two hours that Daichi sat outside upset and alone, his text unread as Kuroo's phone lay innocently on the kitchen counter.

As Kuroo holds his best friend he is 18 again, too young to be realizing that home truly does exist in a person instead of a place.

\---

"Koushi, you can't."

"Let go of me, Asahi!" Koushi struggles against Asahi's grip, tears welling up in his eyes. "I should never have left him, he's all alone, Asahi. He's all alone and this is all so fucked up-"

Asahi pulls Koushi towards him, strong arms holding Koushi together when he feels so much like falling apart. "I know. I know it is." Asahi murmurs, soft, as he guides them towards the couch, forces Koushi to sit down with a gentle but firm push. "Koushi, I know how you feel, but what happened with Daichi's apartment is already on the news. People know who he is now, and it's just not safe for you to be going to him. Not for you or for him. You're not going to be able to see him for awhile."

It's so unfair how just yesterday they were together and happy and safe, only for everything to come crashing down in a matter of minutes. Not for the first time, Koushi resents the path that he has chosen. He resents not being able to go to Daichi when he's in pain, resents the fact that it was him who brought all of this onto Daichi when all he's ever wanted was to protect him. He resents ever choosing to start modeling, to start acting, to have fallen into this life. Everything is so wrong and Koushi doesn't understand how or why it has come down to this.

"There were death threats, Asahi." He sobs out, eyes wide. "He isn't responding to my calls or texts, I just need to know that he's okay. I need to make sure he's somewhere safe."

"Okay." Asahi's gaze is firm. "Okay, we can do that. I'm going to find out where he is and I'll try to handle things so that you can see him as soon as possible. But you have to promise me you won't do anything rash, alright?"

Koushi nods, defeated, sobbing reduced to small hiccups as he wipes his eyes. "T-Try looking for a Kuroo Tetsurou," he says to Asahi between sniffles. "I think that's where Daichi would go."

He desperately hopes that despite everything going on between them, Kuroo came around and is with Daichi right now. Koushi hopes with everything in him that Daichi has a friend by his side, that he's somewhere warm and safe and has a shoulder to lean on in the middle of all this chaos. Koushi thinks about the last image he has of Daichi, standing completely and utterly alone as Koushi leaves him, and tears once again come to his eyes.

He wishes, more than anything, that he could be the one beside Daichi right now instead of hoping that someone else is there with him.

But he's not.

Instead Koushi is here, sitting in his lavish condo that is starting to morph into something akin to a jail cell, thick chains wrapping around his ankles to keep him locked helplessly in place.

\---

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Kuroo Tetsurou?"

"Yes, who's asking?"

"My name is Azumane, Sugawara Koushi's agent. I'm calling to check if Daichi might possibly be with you."

Kuroo's grip tightens on his cellphone and he fights the urge to scream at the unfamiliar voice on the other end. Instead, he takes a deep breath and forces everything down into a tiny ball in the pit of his stomach. "Yes, he is. He's safe and he'll be staying with me for awhile."

He can hear a small sigh of relief from the other end. "Thank god. Is Daichi available to talk right now?"

"He's in the shower. How's Sugawara holding up?"

"Koushi is very worried. He'll be better once he knows that Daichi's okay."

"Will you be doing any damage control on the media coverage?"

"We're working on that, but unfortunately the story is out there, as well as Daichi's name. I'm afraid there's not much we can do to make things better. All we can do is keep both of them out of the public eye until things die down."  
  
Kuroo sighs with irritation, anger boiling up despite himself. "That's easy for a celebrity who has the resources and the personnel to do, but how is Daichi supposed to get through this? I can't believe your people just left him there to deal with all of that by himself."

"I understand your frustration. I'm sorry, Kuroo-san. It was completely unexpected that someone from Koushi's fanbase would be capable of doing something like this. But it would have been much worse if Koushi had stayed, for Daichi more than anyone." Azumane's voice is calm, his explanations are gentle and Kuroo feels a flash of guilt surge through his veins.

"I know. Shit, I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Please look after Daichi, and I'll try and arrange for Koushi to go see him as soon as it's safe to do so."

The insinuation that Daichi needs anybody looking after him is such a laughable notion that Kuroo almost can't take it seriously. Daichi has always been the one doing the looking after, chasing after Kuroo yelling some version of _no Kuroo you cannot set off your homemade potato launcher indoors_ or _god damnit Kuroo how many times do I have to tell you that styrofoam is not microwaveable_ -

Just after the call ends, Daichi pads out into the living room with a towel draped over his wet hair. The air of authority and pride that he usually carries with him has withered into something negligible, there's a slouch to the curve of his back, like he's carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders. All of his clothes had been shredded to pieces by the person who ransacked his apartment, and Kuroo can't help but think that he looks even smaller still dressed in Kuroo's clothes; an old, stretched out t-shirt and sweats that he needs to roll up multiple times so that they don't drag on the floor.

"Azumane just called me, to check if you're okay." Kuroo says, holding his phone up. Daichi's eyes widen and he starts chewing on the inside of his cheek, a bad habit that has stuck even after all these years.

"Suga- is Suga okay?"

"He's fine. Just worried about you."

"My phone died while I was dealing with the police." A heavy sigh escapes Daichi's lips. "Suga's probably worried sick that I wasn't answering."

"Well I let Azumane know that you're safe, so he'll be passing the message on. He says that he's gonna get Sugawara over here to see you when it's safer." Kuroo wanders into the kitchenette, pours Daichi some coffee and brings it back into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table. "It's gonna work out, so buck up, kid."

Daichi glances up with a small smile, but it looks so forced that Kuroo would almost rather Daichi not smile at all. "Thanks, Kuroo. I really appreciate your help."

"Stupid." Kuroo gently smacks the top of Daichi's head in a chiding gesture. "You don't need to thank me. Want some grub?"

"Sure, as long as it's not mackerel."

"Someone as lacking in DHA as you can't complain about fish, y'know."

As Kuroo messes around with various pots and pans in the kitchen, he vaguely hears a knock at the door and Daichi saying that he'd get it. He doesn't even really register it until Daichi is calling for him and he leaves the kitchenette absentmindedly wiping his hands on his jeans.

When he rounds the corner and comes into view of the door, his heart stops in his chest because it's Tsukishima, standing in front of a freshly showered Daichi dressed in Kuroo's clothes and he's suddenly very aware of how all this might look. The expression on Tsukishima's face is unreadable- he slides his eyes from Daichi to Kuroo in one smooth motion and when he does, a wide and polite smile graces his face just as easily.

"Oh, hello Kuroo-san. Sorry, I didn't know you had company over." The coldness in Tsukishima's voice raises goosebumps on Kuroo's skin; he knows what Tsukishima was doing. He does it himself, does it early and often and it's easy enough to tell when he's so used to being the one to cover everything around him in layers of thick ice. "It's Sawamura-san, isn't it? I've heard so much about you."

"Kei-" Kuroo begins to take a step forward. He doesn't miss the twitch of Tsukishima's mouth and the dip of his brow despite his continued smile.

"I've been meaning to say this but could you not call me by my first name? It's strange to be so familiar with a fuck buddy, after all-"

"Kei!" Kuroo grasps Tsukishima's arm and starts to tug him out the door, looking over his shoulder to shoot Daichi a reassuring smile. "Sorry, Daichi. Give us a minute, yea?"

Daichi nods, stunned, and Kuroo closes the door behind him without a second glance. It's just him and Tsukishima now, standing outside in the dimly lit walkway of Kuroo's apartment building. Tsukishima isn't smiling anymore, his hands thrust deep into his pockets as he looks silently over the railing.

"Geez, you really run your mouth when you get upset, don't you?" Kuroo sighs. "It's not what you think."

"You don't need to give me any excuses. Isn't it great? You got the love of your life, it's a happy ending." The bitterness in Tsukishima's voice is heavy. "Looks like you got lucky after all."

"Will you just listen to me for a second?"

"I really don't want to."

"Kei, I swear-"

The look of desperation in Tsukishima's eyes as he whips around to face Kuroo is one that he's never seen before. It's a look of such raw, undiluted heartbreak that Kuroo's breath sticks in his lungs as Tsukishima speaks, his voice barely coming out in a whisper. "I don't want to hear it, so just go inside. I know it's not me. It isn't me with Yamaguchi and it's not me with you either, so-"

"That's why if you'd shut up and listen for one god damned moment I'd tell you that it _is_ you!" Kuroo's voice comes out loud and unabashed, echoes over the residential streets as he stuns Tsukishima into silence. He huffs, exasperated, looks directly into Tsukishima's widened eyes and says, "It's you, Kei. It's you."

"Wha-" Tsukishima parts his lips, searching for words. "I don't-"

Kuroo doesn't want to give him a chance to protest because there's so much that he's been wanting to say for weeks and weeks now, but he just couldn't pluck up the courage to actually say even a fraction of it out loud; and maybe Kuroo simply doesn't know how to tell someone how much he loves them because he's only ever loved one person his entire life and he's never been able to tell that person, either. Kuroo has always, always kept it all stuffed down and packed up so tightly that he's never known what it's like to let it out.

But as he smiles at Tsukishima, who's looking absolutely, hilariously terrified, Kuroo immediately knows what he wants to say to this beautiful person. And once he knows what he wants to say, he just needs to open his mouth and let it all fall out.

The words end up feeling so natural on his tongue that he almost laughs despite himself.

"Yes, I'm in love with Daichi. I've loved him since we were 18 years old, and god, up until now the scariest thing to think about was that maybe I wasn't capable of loving anyone else but him. That maybe I would spend my entire life loving one single person who I knew would never look at me the same way. It started eating me up from the inside out, y'know, it felt so much like I was suffocating and-" Kuroo reaches his hands out, cups both of Tsukishima's cheeks with cold palms. "I was suffocating for years and you were like finally coming up for air. You saved me. It was you."

Tears start to well up in Tsukishima's eyes as Kuroo strokes his face, lips curled into a gentle smile. "I know this is the shittiest start point ever. But when I think about the future I'm thinking about your shitty attitude and fucking _dinosaur documentaries_ and how stupidly skinny you are even though you eat cake for dinner, for god's sake. Don't you get it? It's you. I want it to be you."

There's a few moments of loaded silence where everything goes still and Kuroo swears time is ticking by in slow motion. They stand like that, with Kuroo holding Tsukishima's face in his hands, golden eyes on Kuroo's dark brown before Tsukishima reaches up and wraps his icy fingers around Kuroo's wrists.

"That was disgustingly cheesy, Kuroo-san." is what he finally says, half sob and half laughter, and Kuroo can't help but admit that his eyes start to cloud over too as he pulls Tsukishima into his arms.

\---

"Er, Daichi. There's someone I'd like you to meet." Kuroo stands in front of Daichi, who's sitting on the couch cocking a curious eyebrow at the pair before him. Tsukishima lingers a step behind Kuroo, staring off at the blank wall to his right. The whole situation is _significantly_ more awkward than Kuroo had thought it would be and he can't help but blush scarlet red as he clears his throat, fumbles over the foreign words on his tongue.

"This is Tsukishima Kei. ...my boyfriend."

Whatever Daichi was expecting, _boyfriend_ was clearly not on the list judging by the way his brows shoot up towards his hairline in surprise. The silence in the room is thick with questions that Daichi ends up deciding not to ask, because eventually his lips curl into a strange, lopsided grin.

"Why do I feel like a father who just found out his child has started dating?"

"I am 26 years old, Daichi."

"Yes, a stupidly tall 26 year old problem child."

Daichi pointedly ignores Kuroo's offended sputters, turns to Tsukishima with a sunny smile on his face. "Sorry, Tsukishima. You must have been caught off guard when I answered the door."

"Oh, no that's not..." Tsukishima trails off, shifts uncomfortably where he stands.

"I've already explained the situation to him." Kuroo says, to which Daichi frowns.

"Maybe I should just check into a hotel room-"

"No," Tsukishima says suddenly. His voice is firm and his gaze is steady as he speaks. "I'd like you to stay here, Sawamura-san."

"...are you sure?"

"Yes."

Hesitantly, Daichi nods. "If you're okay with it, Tsukishima."

Tsukishima doesn't stay much longer after that. When he leaves, Daichi glances sideways at Kuroo, eyes communicating a thousand words all at once. Kuroo understands each and every one of them.

"So, boyfriend, huh?" Is all Daichi says, a small and gentle smile on his face.

"Yes." Kuroo replies with a grin.

For the first time, when Kuroo thinks of the word _beautiful_ the colour that comes to mind is unfaltering, blinding gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 2 more chapters until the end of this wild journey!! 
> 
> Also: I apologize if anyone is getting sick of my cliché use of eye colours because I love it and I'm trash
> 
> Visit me on my [tumblr](Http://amaanogawa.tumblr.com).


	12. just like stars, we burn

Another week and a half goes by before Asahi reluctantly allows Koushi to go see Daichi. It’s a week and a half of pure torture, each second passing by in slow motion. It takes its toll on Koushi. Each time he closes his eyes, all he can picture is Daichi, standing alone amidst the destruction of his apartment, blood red words scrawled across his walls.  
  
The tears stop coming. Whether that’s a good thing or not, Koushi can’t really tell anymore.  
  
He can’t sleep. He loses his appetite. The stress impacts his work performance, and when the director of the drama they’re shooting sighs angrily and dismisses him after the fifteenth take of a relatively easy scene, Koushi can’t even bring himself to care.  
  
Daichi stopped responding to his texts a couple days ago. It has been radio silence ever since, and Koushi feels like he’s suffocating from it. There’s no way Asahi can stomach watching his best friend look so miserable, even if it’s for his own good. It might not be the choice that any experienced agent would make, but even so, he tiredly asks Tanaka to take Koushi to Kuroo’s apartment.  
  
Standing in front of Kuroo’s apartment door, Koushi feels his confidence wavering. What if Daichi didn’t want to see him? Why had he stopped responding to his texts? He thinks of Daichi’s smiling face and a dull ache spreads through his chest. None of it matters, Koushi decides finally. None of it matters as long as he gets to see Daichi’s face, even for a little bit. Steeling himself, he presses his finger to the doorbell.  
  
“Yes? Who is i-” When the door swings open it’s Kuroo that appears, looking a lot more haggard that Koushi remembers him to be. The moment he lays eyes on Koushi, he presses his lips together and his jaw tenses visibly. The tone of his voice is steely and sharp as he speaks.

“Oh. What’s up? You here looking to get my apartment trashed too?”  
  
Kuroo flinches, as if the venom in his own voice had surprised him. Before Koushi can respond, he holds up a palm with a grimace. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Shit, that was cruel of me...you’re here to see Daichi, yea?”  
  
“Don’t be sorry. I deserved that. I’m kind of glad someone’s getting mad at me, finally.” Koushi’s laugh is bitter, but his sentiment is true. Everyone has been so coddling, so unbearably kind that it’s been getting on his nerves. It was his fault this had happened. He had been so wrapped up in the bliss of being with Daichi that he completely forgot to be on his guard. He knew paparazzi skulked around every corner. He knew better than to be kissing his boyfriend out in the open when they weren’t ready to be public yet. Most importantly, he knew that Daichi would have no knowledge about the world of scandals and celebrity gossip. Koushi should have been the one to protect him from this. And yet, he was the reason for Daichi’s pain. It’s relieving to have someone berate him for it.  
  
Kuroo stares at Koushi’s anguished expression for a few moments and sighs softly, stepping aside and gesturing for Koushi to come in. “It’s been a hard week for him, but you know the guy. Stubborn as all hell and won’t let on that anything’s wrong.”  
  
Koushi nods. “I’m sorry, Kuroo. It’s been hard on you too.”  
  
“I’d do anything for Daichi.” Kuroo says, almost cold, but the look in his eyes is sympathetic. “I’ll be out on the balcony, give you guys some privacy. Daichi is second door to the left.”  
  
He hears the slide of the balcony door as Kuroo steps out, and takes a few moments to prepare himself before walking down the hallway and raising a hand to knock on the door to Daichi’s room.  
  
“Kuroo? Since when do you knock?”  
  
Daichi opens the door, a tired smile on his face that withers at the sight of Koushi standing there.  
  
“Daichi.” Koushi breathes, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth anxiously. Seconds of loaded silence pass, before Daichi raises his arms slowly, almost like he’s scared that if he moves too quickly Koushi might just disappear from his sight, and holds them out in front of him.  
  
Koushi lets out half a sob before he launches himself into Daichi’s arms, strong and steady and safe just like they’ve always been. “Daichi, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Daichi.”  
  
No reply comes, but Daichi tightens his hold, bringing Koushi impossibly closer and buries his face into the crook of Koushi’s neck, communicating more than words ever could.  
  
\---  
  
“I’m sorry I haven’t texted you back.” Daichi says, handing Koushi a steaming mug of tea. “I’ve been…really out of sorts lately. I couldn’t think of a reply in my state of mind that wouldn’t worry you.”  
  
“Don’t be. I understand.” Accepting the mug, Koushi cradles it in his hands and feels the warmth spread across his skin. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to come see you. I should never have left you like that, no matter what. I’ve been regretting it ever since.”  
  
Daichi’s lips lift into a halfhearted smile. All his usual energy is gone, the strength that he exudes, the confident air that comes with the way he presents himself has all withered away into exhaustion. Koushi chews on his lip as he takes it all in; the bags under Daichi’s eyes, the slouch to his shoulders, the obvious weight loss in under two weeks.  
  
“You had no choice at the time. I don’t blame you for it, Suga. And I’m sure you’re busy with other things. Like your TV show, and you’ll be in London next week for that premiere, right?”  
  
“Wha-” Koushi stammers, confused. “Daichi, none of that is nearly as important as you are! Why are you even bringing that up right now?”

The beat of tension in the air is palpable, and that’s when the atmosphere changes. Daichi takes a sip of his coffee, lost in thought.  
  
“What are you thinking about, Daichi?” Koushi whispers, setting his mug down and placing a trembling hand on Daichi’s arm.  
  
“I’m thinking…” Daichi says, slowly, calculated. He stares into the dark brown of the coffee in his mug. “I’m thinking that you should focus on those things. Instead of worrying about me.”  
  
It feels like Koushi’s blood is freezing in his veins.  
  
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”  
  
Swirling pits of nausea are rolling over and over his stomach. Koushi thinks he might be sick. He swallows, once, twice, tries to take a deep breath. Shakily, he sits himself down on the edge of the bed before speaking.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Everything that’s happened…it’s a bad situation for everyone involved. I’ve seen the way it’s been affecting your career, Suga. Every time I turn on the TV, it’s footage of you being hounded by the paparazzi. You look exhausted.”  
  
“Is that why? For my sake? Because if so-”  
  
“It’s not for your sake.” Daichi interrupts, grief laying itself out across his features. He sets his mug down on the desk and clasps his hands together in his lap, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white. When he finally looks into Koushi’s eyes, the heartbreak is so evident that Koushi’s breath sticks in his throat. This was not the face that he had ever wanted to see Daichi with. How did they get here? How is this happening right now?  
  
Koushi doesn’t know.  
  
“I want to break up for my sake.” Daichi says, his voice cracking at the edges. “I haven’t been to work since the incident. When I showed up at the company, the paparazzi were there waiting. They caused such a disturbance that I can’t go back.”  
  
“You weren’t- you weren’t fired were you?” Koushi asks, horrified.  
  
“No, I’m a co-founder after all. But I’ve been working from home ever since and the reporters are there every single day, harassing my employees and colleagues. I tried to go grocery shopping one day when Kuroo was busy working and the minute I stepped foot in the store someone recognized me. I was surrounded by people trying to take pictures on their phones. It’s pretty much impossible to leave the apartment, I haven’t for almost a week now.”  
  
Daichi sighs, runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I want to break up because this isn’t the life I imagined for myself. I was naïve. I didn’t even stop to consider the implications of dating a celebrity. It was irresponsible of me to jump into this without even thinking about the consequences, and now it has hurt us and everyone around us.”  
  
Koushi’s throat feels like sandpaper when he speaks. “Jump into- jump into ‘ _this_ ’? Were we just something that you thoughtlessly ‘jumped into’? Just an impulsive mistake?”  
  
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Daichi says angrily. “God, we’ve been together for months, Suga. Every single thought I’ve had since we met has been about you! I can’t _not_ think about you, so much so that it’s driving me nuts!”  
  
His tone is like a slap to the face that Koushi recoils from, and it’s only then that he understands. It’s not about him. It’s about Daichi. It’s about what Daichi wants, the future that Daichi sees for himself.  
  
“I didn’t care about the fact that you were a celebrity. It wasn’t important to me. But that doesn’t mean that I should have disregarded it like I did. I’m sorry, Suga. I really am.”  
  
Koushi understands now.  
  
What Daichi wants isn’t him.  
  
The future that Daichi sees for himself is not with him.  
  
It’s that simple.  
  
“It’s okay.” Koushi says with a smile. He starts to reach towards Daichi out of habit, to touch him, to reassure him, to comfort him. Except that’s not his right anymore, not his place, and he draws his hand back at the last second. “I just want you to be happy.”  
  
The look on Daichi’s face tells him that it’s time for him to go. That staying will only make everything harder.  
  
“I’ll show myself out.” He grabs his jacket off the bed before heading for the door. His heart is breaking and everything is coming apart at the seams, but he won’t let himself fall to pieces, not here, not now, not in front of this person. He won't.  
  
“Take care, Daichi.” Koushi whispers, plastering one last fake smile on his face before he exits the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.  
  
\---  
  
At the sound of the sliding door behind him, Kuroo turns to Sugawara stepping out onto the balcony to join him. Judging from the look on his face, Kuroo knows. He grimaces and brings his cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag.  
  
“That bad, huh.”  
  
Sugawara doesn’t answer. “Got another one of those?”  
  
Kuroo reaches into his jacket pocket and brings his pack out, brand new aside from the single cigarette currently in his hand, and shakes another out which Sugawara accepts. He hands over a lighter before taking another drag, exhaling the smoke and watching the thin wisps of grey melt into the breeze. Sugawara is doing the same beside him, holding his cigarette between pale, slender fingers. His profile is beautiful, just as one would imagine a celebrity to be, and it’s more than a little crazy to Kuroo that the same person he was watching on television just the night before is now beside him having a smoke on his balcony.  
  
“Never pegged you for a smoker.” Kuroo says after a few moments, glancing over with a teasing smile. “What happened to your angelic good boy image?”  
  
“Yea, well,” Sugawara takes another drag before stubbing his cigarette, only half gone, out in the ashtray balanced on the railing. “I quit in university, but I figure I can give myself a break for today.”  
  
He gives Kuroo a smile that’s crumbling around the edges, one of heartbreak held together only by sheer willpower to somehow, desperately, make things okay. Turning around, he starts to head back into the apartment, but hesitates with his hand on the sliding doors.  
  
“Take care of him, Kuroo.”  
  
And then he’s gone.  
  
“God damn.” Kuroo mumbles into the silence, cigarette still dangling from his lips. “You two sure love to act strong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After nearly 3 months, I'm back with a vengeance! *throws angst at you*
> 
> I know I said there'd only be two chapters left last time, but it seems like there will be at least another two chapters after THIS chapter. There are many loose ends to tie up, after all! 
> 
> You can find me on my [tumblr](http://amaanogawa.tumblr.com).


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